Too Nice For Slytherin
by Jeni1
Summary: complete, SSOC a biter impossible romance between the desperately unhappy Potions Master and an equally unhappy Hufflepuff-turned-Slytherin.
1. set the scene and smoke two joints

To dispense with the formalities, I do not own anything you may recognise from the Harry Potter books . . . I do however, own Viola and her friends, plus the Sorting Hat song, which was a lot of fun to write!!

To warn you, this story is rated a definite R, for language, and eventually graphic sex, abusive relationships, self injury, drug use, and not graphic rape, since it gives me the heebi jeebies somewhat terribly. Also, a romantic relationship with a pretty large age difference. . . but the age of consent is 16 here in Canada, so I am well within the law. Besides, the wonderful Severus Snape deserves a nice young lover. If any of this stuff offends you, turn around and read something better. 

Also, this is my very first attempt at a fic, so if you hate it and absolutely must tell me, be polite. I really hate it when people are mean, and i would never flame one of YOUR stories. 

Now that that's all out of the way, enjoy! 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Chapter one

  
  


"Another year at Hogwarts,

much like those of years long gone. 

Another group of students, 

terrified to try me on.

I won't bite, so don't be shy

place me on around your ears. 

I'll tell you where your talents lie

so deep beneath your hidden fears. 

Should you go in Hufflepuff, 

where the lovers all reside,

Or even yet in Gryffindor, 

where the fighters find their kind. 

Maybe you're for Ravenclaw,

where your awards would line the shelf. 

Or should you be in Slytherin, 

with such a thirst to prove yourself?

The ancient founders of our school

placed their judgement all in me, 

and even though I'm just a hat, 

I know where you have to be."

  
  


Viola Rienne applauded the Sorting Hat's song along with the other students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She always had enjoyed watching the sorting, and she would sit with her friends every year at the Hufflepuff table and guess what houses the first years would be sorted into. She remembered a few years before, when Harry Potter was sorted. Her friend Brianna practically laid down cash on him being put into Ravenclaw, and Viola was the only one of her group who called Gryffindor. 

  
  


Everyone thought Hufflepuff was the worst house in the school, but Viola held a very fierce pride in it's heritage and nobility. She cheered loudly as a nervous looking girl with very long hair was sorted into the 'worst' house. Though in Viola's opinion, the bravest person she knew had been a Hufflepuff, and that was Cedric Diggory. She could vividly recall his awful death, which marked the second rise of the Dark Lord. She had known Cedric since she started school, and she still felt a terrible despair when she thought of him. 

  
  


Viola was in her seventh year at Hogwarts, and her good grades and Quidditch ability had earned her a shiny silver Head Girl badge. She wore it modestly on her robes, but was secretly very proud of herself for the achievement. 

  
  


Viola was a bit tall for a girl her age, almost six feet. She was willowy rather than slender, and she kept her blond hair shorter than most girls normally did. Her face was cute, with a small upturned nose, interesting brown eyes and a light spray of freckles. 

  
  


"That lad, right there." she straightened her pointed hat and pointed at a chubby young boy who was just taking a seat on the stool. "He'll be in Slytherin." She stated. 

  
  


"I doubt it." said Brianna. "He looks a bit too nice. Maybe he'll be in here with us." 

Viola laughed a bit bitterly. Being nice was all that got you recognition in Hufflepuff. Not bravery, success, or intelligence, but being nice. Nevertheless, deep down, she knew that she was meant to be in this house. She was a very firm believer in kindness, generosity, and generally just being a good person. 

  
  


"SLYTHERIN!" The hat shouted, after a moment of thought, and Viola punched Brianna playfully. 

  
  


"I thought he was gonna be in Ravenclaw." said another friend, a short, very pretty Hispanic girl named Gwendolen. 

  
  


"Naw, he looks like a dumbass. Perfect for Slytherin." This was meant as a joke, and it came from Randy, a redhead with shaggy curls, a dirty mouth, and a heart of gold.

  
  


Gwendolen, Brianna, Randy and Viola were best friends. They met each other att he sorting ceremony of their first year, and they were intimates ever since. The rest of the sorting passed on without event, they just sat and laughed with each other, enjoying the company of friends and anticipating the meal to come. 

Just as Professor McGonnagal was about to put the hat and stool away for another year, it's mouth opened again and shouted. "Viola Rienne!" 

  
  


Every head in the Hall turned in the direction of the Hufflepuff table. Pretty much everyone knew Viola, and since she was in seventh year, there was no reason for the hat to call her.

"I need to sort Viola Rienne." the hat insisted, wriggling fitfully in the Deputy Headmistress's grasp. 

  
  


McGonnagal hesitated for a second, then slowly placed the stool back on the floor. Viola got up from her chair uncertainly, but approached the front of the Hall quite steadily. She could feel the eyes on her, just like her first sorting. Headmaster Dumbledore was leaning forward in his seat, genuinely curious as to what this was about.

Viola removed her black pointed hat and sat on the stool. She had grown a lot since the last time she sat there, and now her feet could touch the floor. She felt gangly and awkward, like she didn't belong on that stool anymore. She felt the hat being lowered onto her head, and it slipped down over her eyes. 

  
  


"Hello." the soft voice whispered in her head. She sent her confused greetings back mentally.

"Sorry Vi," the hat said, using her childhood nickname. "This is for the best, really. You'll thank me later."

  
  


"What are you going to do?" she asked with her mind. The hat didn't answer her, instead it opened it's mouth and shouted out for the whole room to hear.

"SLYTHERIN!"

  
  
  
  


**********************

  
  
  
  


"So they're just switching you to Slytherin?" Brianna asked incredulously. 

  
  


"They can't just do that, you've been in Hufflepuff for six years!" Gwendolen interjected. They were in the Hufflepuff common room later that evening, and Viola was just dragging her trunk out of the dormitory so she could take it down to the dungeons with her. 

  
  


"We'll still see each other guys, it's no big deal." Randy was sprawled all over an armchair, watching them talk. He was rolling a joint, and seemed little interested in anything else. "It's not like you're switching schools or anything, Vi."

  
  


"I know Randy, I just can't stand the dungeons. Or the Slytherins." She got out her wand and levitated her trunk towards the exit, which was a painting of Helga Hufflepuff.

"We'll see you tomorrow Vi," said Brianna, removing her pointed hat and shaking the braids out of her long mousey hair. 

  
  


"Bye you guys," Viola said as she flung a duffel bag over her shoulder and left the common room, her trunk floating in front of her.

  
  


She smiled sadly at Helga Hufflepuff, who was quite upset to see her go. The chubby witch in the painting blew her nose into a pink handkerchief and sighed. "But you're such a nice young lady." She said wistfully. 

  
  
  
  


Viola set out in the direction of the Slytherin common room with a little uncertainty. She knew it's general place in the castle, but she wasn't sure exactly where she was supposed to go. She thought bitterly about her horrible luck. She was off the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, of course. And there was no chance the Slytherin team captain would let her on their team. Another pang of distress struck her. She was muggle born, and Slytherin's usually had little tolerance for her kind. 

  
  


She kept telling herself that it couldn't be that bad, or the Sorting Hat would never have put her there. 

  
  


She paused her troubled thoughts long enough to realise that she had no idea where she was going. The dungeons were like a dark maze of even darker twists and turns, impossible to navigate unless you knew them by heart, which she did not. 

  
  


She could see the door to the Potions classroom in the near distance, and headed towards the only familiar landmark in the labyrinth of cold tunnels.

Maybe Professor Snape would be in the classroom, she thought. He was head of Slytherin House, and would most definitely know where the dormitories were, but would he help her? Of course he would, she was a Slytherin now, as much as she loathed the thought of it. He always favoured the students from his own house, and he had never really seemed to hate her like he did to some people. Potions was her favourite class. She would fight through a hurricane to get to the lab on time, and he recognised her passion for the subject in himself, and therefore had always been at least civil to her. 

  
  


She knocked shyly on the door, and waited for a response. She heard footsteps inside, and a moment later the door was opened and she found herself confronted by the imposing height of her Potions teacher. 

  
  


"Can I help you miss Rienne?" He asked courteously, leaning slightly on the doorframe. Viola had always been shy, but she was finding it increasingly difficult to speak. The day had been difficult, what with her entire life being moved down where there was no windows, and when she saw Snape looking at her with his deep black eyes, she suddenly wanted to cry. 

  
  


"I don't know where the dormitory is." she mumbled, feeling rather stupid, but Snape didn't seem to mind her interrupting him in his work.

  
  


"But if you're busy, I could just keep looking . . ."

  
  


"No, of course not. I was only preparing for my classes tomorrow." He closed the classroom door behind him and levitated her trunk for her. He also took her duffel bag, which she thought very gentlemanly of him. 

  
  


They didn't say a word to each other as he led her through the torch lit hallways, not until they reached a blank stone wall. 

  
  


He handed her luggage back, and told her the password. Then he left without a word back to who knows where. 

  
  


Feeling completely lonely, and wishing that she was in the greenhouse with her friends smoking pot and laughing, she entered the Slytherin common room. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


She just couldn't shake off the feeling of their eyes on her as she rushed into the Girls Dormitory. Sobs racked her body as she lay sprawled out on her four poster bed with the black curtains drawn tight, hiding her from the view of the four other girls that shared the room with her. All she wanted was to be in the Hufflepuff dorms, with her friends. She hated the way the Slytherins looked at her, sneered at her because she was a Mudblood to them. An oddity that shouldn't be in their house.

For some reason, just as she was falling asleep, she thought about Snape. The mild sympathy in his cutting eyes that told her he knew what she was about to go through. 

  
  


Perhaps it's odd, but Severus Snape was thinking briefly about Viola at that same moment. He was in his private rooms, pacing around as he got ready for bed. He contemplated her situation as he brushed his teeth. She was in for a pretty rough haul. The Slytherins would not except her, he knew they would reject her for her muggle parentage. What a stupid world, he though to himself.

He always liked her as a student. She performed exceptionally in Potions, and she had a very adept mind, quick and witty, much like his own. Even though it was going to be difficult, he knew she would get through it alright. He had a lot of respect for her abilities. 

  
  


He splashed water on his face and looked at himself momentarily in the mirror. He was thin, but still kept the athletic physique of his Quidditch days. He had never much like his own appearance, but he rather enjoyed having long hair, and so refused to cut it, even though it hardly befitted a professor of his age. 

  
  


After running a brush quickly through his raven locks he got into bed and was quickly asleep. 

  
  


Viola had a terrible night. For whatever reason, she could not stop crying. Even after the other girls had come in to go to bed, she succeeded in getting them all fully angry before she managed to control the noise she was making. She hardly slept at all, and what little sleep she did get was right through breakfast.

Her first class that morning was potions, and she would have rather died than be late. She rushed through her shower in the unpleasantly cold bathroom she shared with her dorm mates, and ran to the classroom with her hair still wet, and sat down at a desk at the front of the room just as Snape walked in. 

  
  


He looked like he was in a bad mood, but he usually was, so it came as no surprise. He began to lecture them on the potion they would be starting on, and Viola sat in rapt attention, leaning forward and taking careful notes on everything he said. More than once she caught herself staring at him, and quickly turned back to her notes before he could notice. She could see how much he enjoyed teaching, even though he tried to hide it. He seemed to glow with a sort of excitement as he explained the fine art of potions to them, and, if he was left uninterrupted, he would even smile once or twice, very slightly. 

  
  


Viola yawned uncontrollably. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying all night instead of sleeping, and her hair was unbrushed and messy. 

  
  


"Am I boring you, Miss Rienne?" Snape had paused mid sentence at the sound of her yawn.

"No sir, sorry." she mumbled, looking down at her paper and blushing crimson. He didn't persist in humiliating her though, and continued with the lesson. 

  
  


She felt the tears well up in her eyes again, and tried desperately to hold them in . . . it would be like a death sentence to cry in front of Snape. 

  
  


She spent the rest of the class fumbling rather awkwardly around to get her potion finished correctly, which was terribly difficult since she didn't have a partner among her house, and she was keeping her eyes on the ground so no one could see she was upset. 

  
  


Probably because she wasn't watching, her potion was quickly going bad. It was supposed to turn red after she added the last ingredient, but for some reason it was blue. She almost panicked, it was the fist time she had ever messed up so badly in potions.

Her stomach fluttered strangely as the Potions Master approached her, his robes billowing and his deep black eyes drilling holes through her. Far from looking condescending, he looked rather disappointed in her, and the dissatisfaction he sent her way made her feel more shabby and useless than a million of his insults. 

  
  


"Lost again, are we?" He sneered, eyeing the potion disdainfully, and Viola hung her head, her eyes stinging from the threatening tears which were welling up again, despite all her efforts to subdue them. He noticed, though, and not wanting to face the awkwardness of a crying student, he left her alone to frantically repair her destroyed potion. 

  
  


Thankfully, the bell rang and Viola packed up to leave. She glanced quickly at Snape, but he was erasing the instructions from the blackboard, too preoccupied to give her detention, so she hurried out into the hallway. 

  
  


"I thought Snape would start to like you, being in Slytherin now." She looked up at the boy who spoke to her, and gave him a tiny smile. The boy was Brandon Carter, a devastatingly handsome seventh year. His longish honey coloured hair fell over large hooded eyes, and his high cheekbones and full lips left his face beautiful, but masculine. He was almost a head taller than Viola, so that when she turned to face him she was confronted by his stately size and perfect smile. 

  
  


Severus watched them move off down the hallway, talking amiably and he shuddered. He knew he would have to keep a watchful eye on this new Slytherin, as she was bound to get herself into a bit of trouble with Brandon, who's preferred entertainment was a bit on the painful side. 

  
  


Viola never noticed the worried potions master's gaze, though, and felt herself ease up considerably in Brandon's presence. She shrugged the weight of anxiety off from her shoulders and even smiled once or twice at his quips. Standing rather close to him, she could smell marijuana smoke on his uniform, which she greatly approved of. When they separated in the entrance Hall, Viola on her way to Divination and Brandon to Arithmancy, they touched hands without thinking, and Viola was in a much better mood then when she woke up that morning.

  
  


On the way to the North Tower and Divination class, she met up with her friends. It was very lucky that Slytherin and Hufflepuff had at least one class together, or she might never get to see them. 

  
  


In the sweltering classroom of Professor Trelawny she sat at a round table with Randy, Gwendolen and Brianna, happy now to be with them. 

  
  


As the glittery insect that was Sybil Trelawny began to lecture them on the more specific uses of the crystal ball, Randy kicked Viola under the table to get her attention. She looked swiftly at him, hiding a laugh as he made a crude gesture with his hand, reminding them of a conversation they had once had, about how Trelawny kept a job when she had no talent. Randy had suggested that she was servicing Dumbledore in other ways. Viola grinned wickedly at her friend and returned the motion. 

  
  


Viola's attention turned from her friends to her crystal ball, swirling ominously with half formed shadows manifesting themselves behind the pearly fog in the sphere. She peered closer, and almost screamed in shock as a bejewelled hand clasped her shoulder gently. Trelawny leaned over to look in Viola's crystal ball, her beads jingling and curls of her long hair tangling becomingly with large hoop earings. 

  
  


"Your inner eye is clouded dear," She commented in her misty voice, observing the obscure haze inside. "No doubt you are confused, though, what with present occurrences." 

  
  


Present occurrences . . . Viola ran these words through her mind a few times before getting back to her crystal ball. Professor Trelawny moved on to Randy, who was giggling at something he was seeing in his own divinatory tool. 

  
  


She tuned out all distractions and cleared her mind of all thought. The ghostly shadow was slowly taking shape . . . it was a tall, dark, brooding figure . . .

  
  
  
  


She gasped silently to herself. It was Professor Snape. He seemed to be looking at her with his ink black eyes, an unreadable expression there. Behind him loomed another figure, that of Brandon Carter. She looked closer, wondering how these two could figure into her future. Suddenly, the crystal ball Snape wheeled around and dealt a stunning punch to Brandon's jaw.

Suddenly, though, she was jogged out of her reverie by her friends. Randy had said something to Brianna, and she knocked him playfully backwards. His knee jarred the table as he fell, and Viola's crystal ball went rolling, the images therein disappearing. She pounded the table with her fists in frustration. 

  
  


"Damn it Randy!" she cursed loudly, earning an arched eyebrow from the professor, and another bout of laughter from her friend, who was still on the ground, his red curls shining in the light from the fireplace. 

  
  
  
  


************************

  
  
  
  


"Sorry I messed up your prediction, Vi." Randy apologized later, as they vacated the castle in the direction of the greenhouses while everyone else went to lunch. 

  
  


"It's no problem love." she smiled at him, using an affectionate pet name to show she wasn't angry. 

  
  


"It was my fault really." Brianna admitted, as they rounded the corner of the greenhouse and sat down on bales of hay. "Randy was predicting lesbian action between the three of us, so I decked him."

  
  


Gwendolen smirked. "A threesome, eh?" Then she laughed. "That would be pretty hot." They joined into the laughter as Randy pulled a joint out of his breast pocket, hiding it from Viola until she removed her Head Girl badge. It was a superstition of theirs, for Viola to take off her badge in the presence of illegal substances, so she wouldn't have to tell on them later. 

  
  


Randy lit the joint and breathed deeply. "What were you seeing anyway?" he exhaled in a group of smoke Os. 

  
  


Viola pulled her own joint out of her robes, frowning slightly as she twirled it between her fingers, finally wetting it quickly and lighting the end. "I saw Snape." She admitted. She decided not to mention the fact that Snape, in her vision, had broken Brandon Carter's jaw.

  
  


Gwendolen grinned knowingly, leaning forward to take a shotgun from Randy. "No wonder you didn't want to be interrupted." She said quietly. Gwen wasn't one to talk very much, but when she did, she always seemed to make some strange sort of sense.

"Elaborate, Darling." Viola made a drawling gesture with her arm, the joint sticking comically out of her mouth. 

  
  


"Well, you know . . ." she mumbled, leaning back against the wall, her shoulder gently nudging Brianna's. "The Potions Master, so dark and saturnine, with ink well eyes and raven hair . . . a voice like black velvet, those elegant, masculine hands . . . he's so . . ." She paused to breath deeply from the joint, her face partially hidden by a cloud of sweet smoke. "He's so erotic."

  
  


"Man." Brianna stated, smiling and shaking her head. "You always turn into a fucking poet when your stoned Gwen." Gwendolen giggled and blew smoke in her friends face. 

  
  


"Snape is erotic?" Randy demanded, since this was obviously news to him. "That oily son of a bitch?" 

  
  


"He's not oily." Gwen insisted. "His hair in beautiful, so long and soft looking, just waiting for someone to tangle their hands in his ebony locks in a moment of passion."

  
  


"You're sick honey." Viola laughed at her friend as she finished her joint. "Since when do you have a crush on Snape?" 

  
  


"I don't, but to give honour where honour is due . . ." she trailed off, leaving Viola, Randy and Brianna staring at her in disbelief. 

  
  


They left then, heading up to the castle to catch the dessert end of lunch. This year won't be so bad, thought Viola to herself. Her friends were still here, so it would be okay. In the Great Hall, while she was eating, she locked eyes for a second with Snape, and a delicious chill went up her spine. She felt like she was seeing him in a totally new light . . . she shook those thoughts from her mind though, making a mental note to kill Gwendolen later for awakening the possibility that Snape could be a sexually virile man. 

  
  


She ate alone at the table, interrupted briefly by Brandon, who waved to her from the entrance to the Hall, as he left with his friends. She stood up, pinning the head girl badge back onto her breast and quickly exited the hall, her head swimming in a wonderful way but her mouth completely dry. She left the Hall, unaware that Snape was watching her leave. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


***********************

  
  


Thanks for reading this far! I'm sorry if you hated it, and happy if you liked it! I'll post the next chapter soon, which will have much more Snape in it. 

  
  



	2. pay your debts and don't think

I promised more Snape in this one, so it shall be done. The first part of this is boring, sorry, but I had to put it in. It contributes to the plot. Also, thanks for reviewing, you guys really made my day! 

  
  
  
  


Chapter 2

  
  


Snape stood very quickly from the table after Viola left, tossing his napkin onto his plate and hurriedly checking his watch. With a habitual glance along the Slytherin table at his students, he exited the Great Hall in a flurry of black robes. 

  
  


The Entrance Hall of the school was deserted, save for a few first years, lucklessly trying to get directions from a suit of armour.

  
  


He made his way up the many flights of stairs and down even more torch lit hallways, before coming finally to the rather ugly stone gargoyle which marked the entrance to the Headmaster's office. 

  
  


Dejectedly, he gave the password and stepped onto the moving staircase, dreading the meeting to come. Regaining his composure at the door, his unhappy visage firmly in place, he knocked politely on the heavy wooden door. 

  
  


"Severus?" the Headmaster's cheery voice was already grating the Potions Master's nerves, but nonetheless he pushed open the door and greeted Dumbledore with a rather tense handshake.

"I've hardly spoken to you since the end of last term, Severus." Dumbledore commented, as the two men took seats across from each other. Fawkes fluttered weakly over to Snape and perched on the arm of his chair, losing a few red feathers in the process. 

  
  


"He'll be burning soon," the older man said benignly, as if trying to avoid the real point to the meeting. 

  
  


"I have a class soon, headmaster." Snape's voice was cold, but not rude. He simply made it quite clear that he would much rather not discuss his absence over the summer. He shuddered at the memories, which were flooding back into his mind under the calm gaze of the old man. 

  
  


"Where were you, Severus?" Dumbledore looked concerned now, but Snape pushed his scowl up to it's fullest degree of severity, which could bring a young student to tears. Dumbledore, though, knew him, and knew how to get around him. Start with something simple . . . Dumbledore told himself. He had many years of practice in getting through to Snape. 

  
  


"How is Viola faring in Slytherin?" He asked, much to Snape's surprise. The simple question worked though, and he visibly relaxed. 

  
  


"She will be alright soon enough." he assured him. When it was obvious that he wasn't going to elaborate, Dumbledore advanced again with another question.

"Are the other students treating her alright?" he meant, of course, the other Slytherins. Severus could already see where the conversation was heading, and like a cunning game of chess, Dumbledore continued to corner him. 

  
  


"I don't think they'll accept her too readily, Albus." he stated briefly, unwilling to expand his explanation. Dumbledore sat silently across from him, his hands steepled under his chin, deep in thought. 

  
  


"Since she's in your house now, I think you should keep an eye on her. The hat wouldn't have switched her for no reason, and I think she may need some assistance before long."

  
  


"Of course, I am responsible for all my students." Severus shot back, and Dumbledore had to rethink his next question. The last thing he needed was Severus to get defensive. 

  
  


"Don't do this, Severus." there was iron in his voice, the evasive pleasantness vanished completely. 

  
  


"Then can we please get to the point so I can get to my class?" Severus asked, equally firm.

"Where were you all summer?" Dumbledore exploded, standing from his chair and pacing the office. "I was worried sick about you! No one knew where you had gone, I thought they had killed you!"

  
  


"I was where you told me to go." he reasoned coldly. "I was abroad, contacting various Death Eaters, also other members of our cause."

  
  


"Do you have any idea how much danger you could have put yourself in?" Dumbledore asked incredulously, his paternal nature showing through his ire.

"I can do no less, Albus." And there it was, the crack that showed through to the deep rooted despair. Severus hung his head momentarily, then straitened and stood up, no evidence whatsoever that he had said anything meaningful showed on his face. Dumbledore, however, was not about to just let him leave. 

  
  


"Severus, listen to me." the kind voice brought the repellent man years into the past, when he had been a student, troubled and in pain. The headmaster sought his eye contact, and spoke slowly and deliberately. 

  
  


"You have paid your debts, Severus. You've paid a hundredfold."

  
  


Self consciously, Severus seized his left forearm with his right hand, as if it had suddenly pained him. "I'll never stop paying." he said, black eyes burned into blue ones, and with a sweep of his long robes he exited the office, leaving Dumbledore quite ill at ease. 

  
  


What had started as a strange tingling sensation had escalated into mind shattering pain as the Potions's Master ran down the hallway, desperate to apparate so he could be rid of the agony that the Dark Mark was spilling into his veins. It was a long way to the school gates, though, and by the time he got there he had lost all ability to move his arm. 

  
  


As soon as he passed the gates he was mercifully whisked away to face his greatest fear. 

  
  


*******************

  
  
  
  


The end of the day found Viola in her Dormitory, hidden by the curtains of her bed, confronting her own dark side. 

  
  


She leaned back against the headboard in some travesty of relaxation and calm, but in reality she felt as if her entire body was one tightly coiled muscle, shaking uncontrollably. Her right arm lay spiritless in her lap, numb and bloody. She used her left arm to drag a small razor blade across her skin, ignoring the pain and watching the thin lines fill with blood and overflow to soak her robes. 

  
  


She thought back to dinner and almost started crying again. Why do they hate me so much? She wondered to herself, giving the razor a painful little twist. She had just been sitting there, really, she wasn't bothering anyone. Just eating her dinner. Brandon walked by the place where she was sitting, followed by his unpleasant looking friends. He reached out and ruffled her short hair as he passed, smirking cutely as she whirled around to face him. 

  
  


"See you later." he said. She smiled at him and nodded, turning back to her meal, thinking maybe Slytherin wouldn't be too bad after all. How could it, with someone as gorgeous as Brandon Carter who seemed to like her? 

  
  


She was ripped out of her daydream by a group of girls sitting near her, giggling furiously. They kept looking at her, so Viola ventured to ask what was so funny. 

I should have just kept my mouth shut, she reflected, flexing her stiff fingers and mopping up some of the blood with a wad of Kleenex.

  
  


The girls looked at her like she was some nasty piece of garbage. Normally Viola would have glared right back, but she was feeling greatly humbled by the Slytherins since she had become one, and she quailed under their contemptible gaze. These were the girls that had to share a room with her, so she knew they hated her. Despite herself, she was rather afraid. 

  
  


The door to the room swung open, and she heard the other girls come in. They were laughing at something, and she stayed as still as possible, worried that any sound of movement would betray her presence. She clenched her fists around the Kleenex, the sudden exertion causing more blood to seep out over her pale skin. She could hear them moving around the room, talking and giggling, oblivious to Viola who was curled up in the fetal position, she tense that her nails were digging into the flesh of her palms.

  
  


At dinner, they had scared her. 

  
  


"You got eyes for Brandon?" a girl named Dannica asked, her almond shaped eyes glittered wretchedly. Viola frowned, shrinking back from them and nervously shredding her napkin. She didn't answer them, since no witty remark had yet come to her. 

  
  
  
  


"Listen, you filthy mudblood, 'cause I'll tell you once." Dannica continued, leaning forward aggressively. "You are not a Slytherin, you are a muggle. You don't deserve to be anywhere near Brandon." 

  
  


"But if all goes well," interjected another girl, also leaning forward and crossing her arms across her ample chest. "Soon you won't even have the option." she smiled like she had said something obscure and meaningful. The gist of her comment was lost on Viola, though, who merely stood and left the Hall, choking on the sobs lodged in her throat. 

  
  


She didn't even notice what she was doing until the blood started to pour. It was uncontrollable, a damaging habit she could not give up. Sometimes the smallest insignificant things could trigger a near death experience, and Viola was more afraid every time. The swirling fog enveloped her brain, bent on seeing blood. The slam of the door, signalling the departure of the other girls, was enough to clear the red mist from her eyes, and her entire body relaxed, giving way to exhaustion. Viola wrapped the duvet about herself and fell into a feverish sleep. 

  
  


While Viola was holed up in her dorm, Brandon Carter was in the common room with his friends. They were in high good humour, sprawled on armchairs in the heat of the fire, flipping through magazines. 

  
  


"This is gonna be a great year," said a rotund lad named Miles, who was reading the Daily Prophet. 

  
  


'What makes you say that?" Brandon asked, turning his magazine sideways and flipping out the centerfold, not really paying attention to the answer. 

  
  


"My dad says some things are gonna happen . . ." Miles explained, his grey eyes wide with rather fierce excitement. "There is gonna be some huge changes around here." he turned the page of the newspaper, skimming through a critical article about the school's stability.

  
  


"Anything good in there?" Said the fifth year Draco Malfoy, who had just entered the common room and took a seat on the floor by Miles and glanced at the paper. 

"Sure, bit about your dad, actually." he indicated the front page, which had a glowering photo of Lucius Malfoy. "Word's got out that the Dark Lord is back, and your daddy's being questioned." he sneered at the younger boy. 

  
  


"Father's been questioned before." Malfoy sneered right back, but his voice lost it's arrogant drawl for a second. "Besides, your acting like your parents have nothing to do with Voldemort." 

  
  


"I'll bet they'll interrogate all of our parents eventually," Brandon said. 

  
  


"Everyone who was on trial before." Malfoy insisted. "Not just my father."

  
  


"They'll probably be much more . . . strict with the trials this time . . . no more of that bullshit, like if you give enough names you go free. They'll lock them all up right away." Miles looked nervous. 

  
  


"That's what my parents are saying." Brandon said thoughtfully. He turned to a girl named Alison Nott, a small sort of person, left nervous and bent from years of hard beatings by her father. Her eyes never seemed to leave the floor, and lank hair hung over very intelligent eyes, which twitched every now and then. "Isn't your mum a school governor?" he asked her. 

  
  


"Y-yes." she replied slowly. Her stutter seemed to get worse every year. "She s-s-said s-s-security has been t-tight-tightened around the s-school." she smirked evilly, "To p-protect the l-little mudbl-blood bastards who dared to c-c-come back." 

  
  


"Ah, fuck the mudbloods." Malfoy said vehemently, tossing his newspaper into the fire, scattering sparks all over Alison who made no move to brush them off. 

  
  


"Th-they'll b-b-be gone s-soon, M-Miles." Alison said, watching the last spark go out in her lap. Her evil smile returned. In the fireplace, the discarded Daily Prophet curled up on itself in burned, the moving picture of Lucius Malfoy on the front page looking a bit distressed as the flame approached. 

  
  
  
  


**************************

  
  
  
  


Viola woke in a cold sweat, stifling a terrified moan as she bolted upright in bed. The nightmarish images continued to plague her thoughts, and, afraid to fall asleep again, she left the dormitory. 

  
  


The fire had burned low in the common room, casting dark, flickering shadows around chairs and tables. The ornate clock over the hearth told her that it was two in the morning. The large, foreboding room was empty, and Viola felt safe. 

  
  


She sank herself into a chair as close to the fire as she could get, but the warmth threatened to put her back to sleep, so she was forced to distance herself from the comfort of the glowing embers. She attempted to flex the fingers of her right hand, but they were stiff and didn't want to move. She would have to heal them somehow.

  
  


She decided on a quick walk to the Potions classroom. It would be an ideal place for her to brew a simple healing draught, and even a dreamless sleep potion so she could go back to bed. No one would interrupt her at this time of night, she was sure, and so she left the common room with that destination in mind. 

  
  


The dark, hooded figure made his way silently through the hallways of the castle dungeons quietly. He was weary and dispirited, slightly drunk and in desperate need of sleep. 

  
  


There would be no sleep for Severus Snape, though, not after what he had just seen. He brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes, shocked when his hand came back bloody. The meeting at the Malfoy Manor had been brief, but brutal. His body ached with dark bruises and lingering soreness from cruciatus. He resolved to talk to Dumbledore about altering rules for disaparating in the school grounds. He could not afford to be late for another congregation. 

  
  


A wave of intense nasua overtook him as he rounded a corner and he almost retched, leaning heavily on the wall. The complaint passed, though, and he was able to continue towards his private quarters. 

  
  


On his way passed, he noticed that there was alight burning in his classroom, and the door was slightly ajar. He could faintly hear a cauldron simmering inside. Annoyance surged through him. The last thing he wanted to deal with was a student out of bed past curfew. He hesitated at the door, and peered inside. 

  
  


Viola Rienne was inside, two cauldrons bubbling merrily as she prepared and hastily added ingredients to each in turn. Her short hair was sticking up in all directions, and she was still wearing her uniform robe. Her face was drawn and pale, and she looked drowsy. One of the cauldrons was spewing out purple smoke in the way that only a dreamless sleep potion can, and he was briefly reminded of Dumbledore's earlier statement, that she might be in some trouble. 

  
  


Also, he noticed, she was doing things one handed for the most part. Her left hand worked deftly while the right just hung at her side, and when she did use it, it was clumsy. Only when she dropped a vial of some unidentified ingredient did he enter the classroom. 

  
  


She gasped and shrunk back against the work table, afraid of the hooded figure that entered the room. Quickly, he removed the hood and she appeared even more frightened of his deeply lacerated face. Blushing crimson, she crouched down to clean up the mess of the spilled bottle. 

  
  


"Do you know what time it is?" he asked her, suddenly very angry to see her in his classroom. Her eyes turned to her cauldrons, one of which was starting to boil over. "Sleep potion? Healing draught? What the hell is this all about?" She backed away from him a few steps, cowering under his rage. He made to knock the cauldrons off the table, but thought better of it. His rage deflating, he grabbed a coffee mug off his desk and dipped it into the healing potion. 

  
  


Her eyes widened as he threw his head back and drank it all in one gulp. She watched, fascinated, as the cuts shrank and disappeared, leaving only stray streaks of dried blood, which he wiped off on his sleeve. For a second she was pleased that the Potions Master of Hogwarts trusted her work enough to actually drink it. He placed the empty mug on the worktable, close to her as if daring her to follow suit. Bravely, she reached out and placed her hand on the mug. 

  
  


Faster than her eyes could follow, his hand had lashed out and had her wrist in a vicelike grip. The dim light from the cauldron fire threw his face into sharp relief as he stared searchingly at her. Impulsively she tried to pull away, but he held her tight, so close he could hear her heart pounding in her chest. 

  
  


"Your potion worked well . . ." he murmured, so quietly she almost didn't hear him. "The physical pain is completely gone." She vaguely suspected that he was mocking her, but thoughts were fleeting. His hand felt so warm on the bare flesh of her wrist, and at the close proximity to the taller man she could almost feel his words gliding over her. He pulled her closer to him, his mouth now quite close to hers. His eyes burrowed into hers, and her legs almost gave out. 

  
  


He turned his head to whisper in her ear. "But what's hurting you, Viola?" Her first name rolled off his tongue and his words were smooth, almost sensual, but strait to the point. She realized that he was slurring slightly, and she could faintly smell vodka on him. Never breaking eye contact with him, she wrenched her arm out of his hand and grabbed the mud, filling it hurriedly and drinking it down. He stared coldly at her, backing away just a step. 

  
  


The potion went down easily and sweet tasting, spreading a pleasant feeling throughout her entire body. Feeling returned to her right arm and she clenched and unclenched the fingers behind her back to get circulation back into the deadened appendage. 

  
  


Surprisingly, Snape's face broke into a grin, but Viola would have much preferred his usual scowl. It was an evil type of smile, that came with a crafty arched eyebrow. Gwendolen was so right, Viola thought to herself, almost melting under his gaze, her stomach twisting into nervous knots. 

  
  


He leaned back against the work table, crossing his arms over his chest and flicking some hair out of his eyes with a deft toss of his head. "That takes care of the physical pain, then, doesn't it?" his voice was hard as diamonds, and cut through her defences similarly. A lonely tear rolled down her cheek, glittering in the dim light from the cauldron. She continued to stare levelly at him, refusing to say anything, in case her mouth betrayed her mind. 

  
  


His gaze travelled smoothly from her eyes to the sleeping potion, which appeared to be ready.

  
  


"But pain is rarely just physical, isn't it?" he asked rhetorically, dipping the mug into the second cauldron and handing it to her, eyes narrowed now. He looked as if he was going to say more, but instead he turned away and started to clean up the mess she had made of the classroom. 

  
  


"I'll do that," she offered, stepping toward him hesitantly, and she almost screamed when he whirled around on her, suddenly quite furious. 

  
  


"Go to bed." he said through gritted teeth, and she knew he meant it. Slowly, she backed out of the classroom, not turning her back on him until she was in the hallway. She ran back to her dorm, her mind reeling from the persistent effects of his closeness. There was something so delightfully sinister about him, prominent the way his lips brushed her earlobe as he whispered her name in his velvety voice. She drank the potion in her dorm and fell onto her bed, the feeling of his strong hand on her wrist still caressing the back of her mind as she fell into a mercifully dreamless sleep. 

  
  


True to his prior assumption, Severus Snape would not be sleeping that night. He continued to clean the classroom, carefully rearranging his shelves and store cupboards. Keep moving, he told himself. Keep moving and don't think. Thoughts were bad things at a time like this, after meeting Voldemort. Thoughts always turned dark. 

  
  


His eyes kept straying to the sleeping potion, enticing him until he was forced to pour it down the drain. He had used it far too much lately, and he was starting to develop a mild dependancy on the stuff. Throughout the remainder of the night, one thought kept slipping back into his troubled mind. Viola. 

  
  


Her soft skin under his hands, the smell of her hair while he whispered in her ear, such strength when she pulled away from him. Keep moving . . . 

  
  


Don't think. 

  
  
  
  


*********************

  
  


that was rather odd, but fun to visualize. . . man I love Snape . . . 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. get drunk and go to Hogsmeade?

Urg, sorry this took so long to get done . . . I was grounded for ditching school and couldn't use the computer . . .don't parents sometimes suck? Anyway, all credit must go to Rowling, of course, who is graciously lending me her Potions Master for the time being. Although I am almost 100% sure that I wrote this entire chapter, I have no recollection of actually doing so. It may be strange . . . or perfectly normal, who knows eh?

Also, I have six reviews . . . they make me happy . . . I want more!! 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Chapter 3

  
  
  
  


When Viola was dragged out of her sleep the next morning, she couldn't recall ever feeling so wonderful. A glance at her alarm clock told her that she had again missed breakfast, but oddly she didn't care.

Her cheerfulness increased upon her realization that the girls were already gone for the morning, so she dressed in privacy, without their sneering taunts. Only when she spotted Snape's coffee mug on her bedside table did she recollect the previous evening, or rather, early morning. The inside of the cup was stained purple from the potion, and she hurriedly washed it clean in the bathroom, her mind reeling from the memories that were flooding back. Though they were gone, she could still feel the cuts on her arm, even if it was only imagined. 

  
  


The bell rang, signalling the start of class and she got caught up in the rush of students towards to Potions lab. She was the first one to get to class, and she almost skipped to the front of the room in her good mood, placing the mug politely on Snape's desk, whispering a quiet thanks to him. He seemed mildly surprised, but then he ignored her, but she wasn't really shocked. He probably had no real memory of their encounter the night before. 

  
  


She was appalled at how terrible he looked. No longer drunk, but most definitely hung over something fierce. His seemed to be fighting to stay awake, and yawning quite a bit. His eyes lacked their savage depth, and instead were blank and haunted. He looked a bit sick as well; he was more pale than ever. 

  
  


Nevertheless, he began his lesson as normal and went about things as if nothing was wrong. He did manage to have a Ravenclaw girl in tears by the end of class, though, so obviously the lack of sleep did not affect his teaching methods. 

  
  


When it came time for them to start on their potions, Brandon Carter sidled up to Viola and asked if she would mind him working with her. Before she could really answer, though, he had started. Brandon's mood matched hers, though, and they worked quite well together. 

  
  


"Don't mind those girls," he advised her when he noticed them sneering at Viola from across the room. "They'll leave you alone eventually." She frowned for a moment, but then smiled brightly at him, effectively completing their potion by adding a snake scale. 

  
  


Snape swooped down on them and inspected the potion critically. Unable to find anything wrong with it, he mumbled a 'good work' and left to scrutinize someone else's hard labour. 

  
  


Viola watched him for a moment, deep in thought. The night before, he had greatly intrigued her, enough to leave her legs weak and her heart pounding. Now, though, he was just back to his normal, irate self. 

  
  


She was having a strange desire to see more of him, to get to know more of him. God Viola, now you have a crush on Snape? She shook her head, banishing those thoughts from her mind. But no, it wasn't a crush, not really. He just . . . intrigued her. 

  
  
  
  


"Come to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?" Brandon asked, his tone suggested he had said it a few times before she noticed. Still eyeing Snape, she agreed. 

  
  


"Yeah. . . yeah sure Brandon." she faced him at last and smiled genuinely. "Sounds fun." She tried to sound nonchalant, but inside she cheered for her luck. Plenty of girls at Hogwarts had a crush on Brandon. Hard not to, really, considering his incredible looks and Quidditch ability. Viola had never been one to get silly crushes, but she had to admit a trip to Hogsmeade with gorgeous Brandon was something to look forward to.

  
  


"Great then," he grinned at her. 

  
  


The bell rang soon after, and the students rushed out of the classroom, leaving Snape gratefully alone, the sudden quiet soothing his pounding headache. He hadn't slept a wink, and the memories of the night before were still fresh in his mind. 

  
  


The warped, pumping music had throbbed through his brain upon his arrival to the Malfoy Manor. Turning down drinks from several shifty eyed servants, he found an unopened bottle of scotch on a table and started on it himself. He never trusted an open glass in a room full of Death Eaters. 

  
  


The numbness had left his arm by then, the pain thankfully gone. He kept his back to a wall and watched the proceedings. Most of the people dancing were women, drunk as whores and displaying their flesh in tantalizing glimpses to the barbaric hooded figures grouped around the room in easygoing imperturbability.

  
  


As disgusted as Severus was with them, he could still remember why he loved these nights. Music vibrating through the floor, liqueur flowing like water and the loose young females who would not be satisfied until they tasted blood. The red lights hanging from the domed ceiling made the scene eerie and unsettling, bathing flesh in crimson light, making it appear drenched in blood. He took a long pull from his bottle, and when he brought it down he spotted Lucius Malfoy groping a woman who was most definitely not his wife. He saw Severus and waved haughtily at him, before leaving his young lady. 

  
  


As the insobriety overtook the Potions Master, he found himself cornered by Lucius. Strobe lights flashed from the corners, and the blond man appeared to move in slow motion. 

"Severus, not participating?" He asked amiably, quite intoxicated himself. But after all, Severus reminded himself, that's the point. 

  
  


"These trivial festivities bore me Lucius." He took another long drink, trying to get as drunk as possible before the real action started. 

  
  


"You used to love our little revels, Sev." Lucius replied, snagging the bottle and gulping some of the amber fire down. A long legged beauty walked passed them, her arm outstretched towards the two men. Her index finger crossed each of their throats before she disappeared into the crowds. Lucius smirked after her, his eyes glued rather ungraciously to her backside, encased in tight leather pants. 

  
  


"I tire of it, Lucius." he admitted. "It's all the same. Drinking the same booze, doing the same drugs and fucking the same sluts night after dimly remembered night." he sneered. 

  
  


"Ah, so you're bored, are you?" Lucius grinned. "Things will get better soon. You might want to drink up," he suggested, suddenly slightly nervous. "He's coming." 

  
  


Before the Death Eaters were to meet Voldemort, they always had these twisted little parties. It was merely an excuse to get as drunk as possible before the Dark Lord came to call on them. The pain that they might soon be put through was numbed slightly by alcohol, and less likely to be remembered. Entertainment ranged from muggle torture to perverted orgies, mild intoxicants to heroin and cocaine. 

  
  


Snape felt that he had left it all behind years ago, but in truth, every time he came to another revel as a spy, he felt like he was back in his youth again, so far into the dark sometimes he forgot what side he was really on. 

  
  


Severus was about to casually ask Lucius what would soon be happening, but he had already sauntered off. He cursed silently to himself. What was the point of coming to these horrible festivities if he didn't learn anything?

  
  


The bottle was removed from his hand by a woman nearly as tall as he was. She drank deeply from the scotch and dropped it onto the floor. She wrapped herself around him and forcefully covered his mouth with her own. 

  
  


Fighting back his revulsion, he forced himself to kiss her back, just as hard. He kneaded her hips roughly and crushed her tempting form against his. He could feel her breasts pressed to his chest, and reached under her shirt to feel her coarsely. Playing the part of the Death Eater, he ravaged her against the wall, taking no delight whatsoever from her moans of pain and pleasure. 

  
  


Her hands, which had been tangled in his hair, now dragged down the sides of his face and neck, leaving searing tracks of blood on his sallow skin. He cried out in pain and surprise, grabbing her wrists and angrily throwing her from him. 

  
  


The music was so loud now it completely drowned out all thought. The girl who had raked Snape's face had stalked off in search of someone else, and he found himself again alone. Looking around him, he noticed that people were donning their masks and securing their dark hoods in place. He joined them, moving at last away from the wall and taking his place in the circle. 

  
  


The music became muffled when he entered the ring of people, as if they were in a separate room. His elbows jostled those of the people on either side of him, but they ignored each other completely, staring intently at the centre of the circle. 

  
  


With a small noise, the Dark Lord apparated before them, blinking his wide red eyes around at his followers. His snakelike nostrils flared, tasting the scent of their fear. Snape's insides turned to ice as the demonic form of Voldemort looked at them, straight through their tainted souls, and tore them apart with mind ripping agony. 

  
  
  
  


**************************

  
  


"So, I'm going to Hogsmeade with Brandon tomorrow." Viola grinned at her three friends, once again behind the greenhouses on the following Friday evening, basking in the lingering warmth from the beautiful day. They stared blankly back at her in mild surprise, their faces partially hidden by the heavy, sweet smoke that surrounded them. 

  
  


Finally, Randy shrugged and got back to smoking the rather fat joint he had in his hand. Gwendolen raised her eyebrows at her friend. 

  
  


"So now you're dating the Slytherins?" she asked incredulously, not quite approving of her friend. "Watch out Vi, you know how they are."

  
  


"It's no big deal, Gwen." Brianna cut in, a smile painted all over her aristocratic features. "He's real cute Vi, good for you." 

  
  


"Looks aren't everything," Randy said to Brianna, passing her his joint. 

  
  


"You only think that cause your ugly." Brianna laughed, and he punched her playfully in the stomach, causing a cloud of smoke to whoosh out of her lungs. This was a great source of hilarity for Gwendolen, who went into a fit of laughter, her entire body convulsing as she gasped for air. 

Viola sat back and relaxed, flipping the headphones of her discman over her ears and tuning out her friends' congenial joshing. She never told them about her 'episode', for lack of a better word. Her friends knew that she cut herself, but she had always refused to talk about it with them, not wanting them to worry. They really didn't know how to handle her problem, if forcing her to talk about it would make it worse or better, and so they trusted her to seek help when she wanted it. It had been a silent agreement between them for as long as they could all remember. 

  
  


She also didn't tell them about her encounter with Snape in the Potions classroom. She considered it to be a rather private thing, for some reason, something personal between her and the Potions Master. Like a secret, only better. 

  
  


She was thankful that while electricity did not function at Hogwarts, batteries did. After a while, her body felt pleasantly detached from her mind, and the mellow rhythm of Sublime reverberated through her without her really hearing it. 

  
  


In an instant, it seemed, it was getting quite dark. The four friends heaved themselves up from the ground, passing around a small bottle of Visine to despatch with the tell-tale bloodshot eyes that could get them into a lot of trouble if they were to run into a teacher. 

  
  
  
  


They separated in the entrance hall, saying their goodnights as Viola headed away from them, down the stairway into the dungeons and as the other three went up to the Hufflepuff common room. 

  
  


Taking a detour, Viola headed to the kitchens instead of the Slytherin dormitory, suddenly plagued with ravenous munchies. She didn't run into anyone in the corridor, which she thought was a bit odd but it didn't really bother her in her state of mind. 

  
  


Distracted by her music, still blaring into her ears and intent on her quest for food, she took no notice of the eyes which followed her, or the quick footsteps that trailed behind her. 

  
  


Students at Hogwarts got Friday afternoons off, and Severus Snape had spent this time sleeping deeply and dreamless, having finally succumbed to a potion. He woke up just as night was falling, and set out towards the kitchens, since he had missed lunch and dinner. Through eyes still clouded with sleep, he saw Viola walking in the same direction, swaying slightly to music that only she could hear. 

  
  


He watched her tickle the fruit painting gently and disappear into the doorway that opened there. He waited for a minute, then prepared to do the same when the door opened again and Viola emerged right in front of him, clutching a pile of cookies. She gasped in surprise when she saw him, and almost dropped the food. 

  
  


"Hungry?" he asked her sarcastically, as she selected a cookie and began to eat it in front of him. She handed one to him, and skirted around his tall robed figure. Visine or not, she didn't trust her eyes. She shot him a smile when he grabbed her arm, turning her around to look him in the eye. 

  
  


She was surprised, but not displeased, to have him touching her again. His closeness made her feel elated more than the drugs did, and now she was sure she could smell his cologne. She took a deep breath, taking in his masculine scent. 

  
  


He was preparing to say something very difficult, that he would never normally say unless Dumbledore had told him to. Spurred on by that fact, and the now-remembered sight of her making a healing and dreamless sleep potion in his lab, he forced himself to speak gently. 

  
  


"Do you need to talk about anything, Viola?" he asked, feeling a bit strange, and most definitely not wanting to have this sort of conversation with a student. She frowned slightly, then smiled again, shaking her head. 

  
  


"Why? Do you?" she gave him another cookie and turned to leave again, this time he didn't stop her. For some reason, she almost wished that he had. 

  
  


***************************

  
  


The next morning brought another sunny, hot day. Viola dressed in her dorm, again in the absence of the other girls, in a t shirt, capri jeans and sandals. Saturdays at Hogwarts meant no uniforms! Without bothering to brush her short hair, she rushed out into the common room, where Brandon was already waiting for her, looking immaculate in faded, baggy jeans and an unbuttoned red shirt over a white wife beater. 

  
  


They ate breakfast together in the Great Hall, discussing their plans for the day over toast. Across the room, Viola watched the Hufflepuff table. She saw Randy catch a package dropped by a large barn owl, and show it to Gwendolen and Brianna. He saw her watching and waved the small box at her, grinning cheerily. Randy's muggle friends were always sending him pot at school, since it was impossible to buy in Hogsmeade. 

  
  


She turned her attention back to Brandon, who was just saying something about buying her lunch in the Three Broomsticks. She nodded and grinned at him, and they left together in a crowd of students to walk to town in the warmth of the morning. 

  
  


Their morning in Hogsmeade was uneventful, but they had fun nonetheless. Save for a quick stop at the post office so Viola could mail a letter home to her parents, they devoted their time to Zonko's Joke Shop, the sweet shop, and Quality Quidditch Supplies. Brandon had to drag Viola away from a display of new Firebolts, which were mesmerizing in their beauty. She could remember in the summer of her second year, saving up every scrap of money she could get, to exchange it all for galleons and buy a Nimbus 2001. That was the year she made the Quidditch team. 

  
  


At around noon Viola and Brandon were just sitting down in the restaurant end of the Three Broomsticks. They chose a seat in the back, by a large window. The sunlight poured in for them to wallow in the heat. 

  
  


While Brandon was looking through his menu, Viola saw Randy, Gwen and Brianna saunter in to order drinks. They waved to her, but did not venture further upon seeing her with Brandon. They made pleasant small talk while they ate, about Quidditch and classes and other unimportant things. 

  
  


Under the small table, Brandon's leg jostled hers, and he grinned at her. She smiled back, giving him a playful punch on the shoulder, successfully knocking over his glass of water. 

  
  


With a laugh, they both stood up quickly, before the water could run off the table and soak them. Their food forgotten, the exited the pub before they were asked to clean it up. Once out on the street, they continued walking down the cobblestone street, still laughing about nothing. Viola's sandals flip-flopped on the road, making a rather annoying noise, so she took them off and stuffed them in her backpack, now barefoot. 

  
  


Brandon watched her walk head of him, half dancing to some song she must have stuck in her head. Her jeans were frayed at the bottom, and every once and a while she would move in such a way that wold pull her shirt up an inch or so, revealing her navel. He also noticed a tattoo on the small of her back, of a cherub. 

  
  


He hurried to catch up with her, still admiring her appearance to himself. When he came up beside him, she jarred him lightly with her shoulder, still smiling. Instead of knocking her back, he slid his arm around her waist, and since she made no move to remove it, they walked that way.

  
  


"Mind if I smoke?" She asked sweetly, and when he shook his head, she pulled a joint out of her pocket and lit it. 

  
  


"Oy, that's not a cigarette!" He laughed at her, his hand sliding into her back pocket. 

  
  


"Of course not," she grinned. "Cigarettes kill you!" she blew smoke in his face and giggled. Viola was never really the type to giggle, but then again, she was getting high and Brandon's hand was on her ass. So she allowed herself a bit of femininity, and giggled. 

  
  


"Pass that shit!" He joked, taking it from her and starting on his own buzz. At that moment, Viola felt like Brandon was the best person in the world. There was no other place she could think of to be, than there in Hogsmeade with Brandon. She felt truly happy, and to show it she snuggled closer to her companion as they made their way back to the castle. 

  
  


The entrance hall of Hogwarts was cool compared to outside, and it gave them pleasant goose bumps as the huge doors whooshed closed behind them. Brandon finally removed his hand from her pocket, but kept it on her waist, and led her down the stairway, which got colder at every step.

  
  


He halted her at the entrance to the common room and pulled her closer to him with both arms around her small waist. He took a step with her, until her back was against the wall. When she didn't protest, he leaned down towards her and pressed his mouth against hers. 

  
  


Their kiss, at first, was chaste. He ran his hands up and down her sides as he gently parted her lips with his tongue. She opened willingly to him, clasping her hands together behind his neck and pulling him closer.

  
  


His hands moved up from her ribs to her breasts, kneading the soft flesh and caressing her hardened nipples with his thumbs, dragging a moan from her throat and into his mouth. As his mouth moved from her own to carve a hot trail of kisses down her neck, her mind began to wander. Suddenly, instead of Brandon pinning her to the wall, now sucking lightly on her collarbone, it was Snape. 

  
  


Snape was kissing her with such demand and passion her legs almost gave out. He pressed his hips hard into hers, feeling the quickened pulse in her neck with his mouth. He moved up to her face again, ravaging her mouth, exploring it thoroughly with his skilled tongue. Her fantasy ended abruptly, though, when Brandon bit down on her lower lip, causing it to open and send blood pouring into her mouth and down her chin. 

  
  


In shock and pain, she jerked her head back, idiotically banging it into the stone wall behind her. Brandon gasped and backed away slightly, removing his hands reluctantly. Viola grasped the back of her head with one hand and wiped blood off her chin with the heel of the other, her face screwed up in pain. 

  
  


"Are you alright?" Brandon asked, somewhat stupidly, unsure of what to do. "I'm so sorry!"

  
  


She looked up at him, and was horrified to see her own blood on his mouth, oozing slowly down his chin. She got control of herself quickly, flashing him a strained smile. As if suddenly noticing the blood, he cleared it off hurriedly on his sleeve. 

  
  


"I'm just going to go for a walk . . ." She murmured, still rubbing her head, feeling the start of a lump take effect. 

  
  


"Yeah, sure." he said, smiling apologetically. He seemed embarrassed, and disappeared as soon as he could into the common room, as Viola headed in the opposite direction, just as quickly. She rushed up staircases and down hallways, finally arriving at the imperial Head Girl's bathroom. 

  
  


She rarely used this room, finding it too grand for her modest tastes. But it was a good place to think, and she felt like she needed to do just that. She filled the gigantic bath with foamy, fragrant water, undressed quickly and jumped in. 

  
  


She felt her lip gingerly, flinching as she touched it. It had swollen so much she hardly had to strain her eyes downward to see it. It must have been an accident, but for some reason she couldn't shake the image of her blood on his mouth out of her mind. 

  
  


Another image she couldn't get out of her mind was that of Snape. The fantasy had came so quickly she hadn't even noticed she was envisioning someone else in Brandon's place. It confused her, though. She had spent a perfectly enjoyable day with Brandon, and she really enjoyed kissing him. She thought she would have had sex with him on the floor of the hallway if he had wanted to, his touch had filled her with so much excitement. 

  
  


She laughed quietly to herself, ducking under the water to soak her hair and wash the dried blood away from her skin. 

  
  


Maybe it wasn't Brandon you were enjoying, Vi . . . Viola scolded the voice in her head, trying to make it shut up. But the nagging little thoughts made her wonder, was it Brandon making her knees weak, or was it that small fancy of the Potions Master? 

  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. is there a hint of romance in the air? u...

Pardon the lack of event in this chapter, I was focussing more on developing characters than their relationships . . . oh well . . . Next one will be better!! 

Also, happy April 20th to all the potheads out there, smoke a fat one for me my friends!

Another big thanks to Rowling, of course, for inventing such wonderful stories. Also thanks to Sublime, for writing such great music for me to write this story to. 

And one and all, raise your glasses to a victory for the Toronto Maple Leafs last night against the Islanders. . . Enough of my incessant jabbering, already! On with twisting the life of our favourite Potions Master. 

  
  
  
  


Chapter 4

  
  
  
  


The beauty of the Saturday afternoon was completely wasted on Severus Snape. He had been summoned to another rally in the ungodly hours of the morning, and had only just been allowed to leave the heinous scene. Since it was rather unorthodox to be getting drunk at four in the morning, he had no protection whatsoever from the mood swings of the Dark Lord.

  
  


He stormed down the corridors, taking points from nearly every student he passed. He wanted to scream so badly he could feel his throat ache for release. The anguish, terror, and distress was balled up in his chest so that it was causing him actual physical agony, so bad he almost wanted to die. 

  
  


Dumbledore was waiting for him in his office, ready with a soothing cup of tea, with a hint of something stronger mixed in. The door slammed back on it's hinges, and the overwrought form of Severus stood framed there, his eyed wide and his chest heaving with exertion.

  
  


The sight of Dumbledore, familiar, solid and real, stabilised the Potions Master enough to calm him down slightly. Dumbledore gestured toward a comfortable looking chair, and Snape sunk into it gratefully, easing his weight apprehensively off his feet. He saw the steaming cup of tea and gulped it down in one swallow, ignoring the searing heat it spread down his throat. 

  
  


Dumbledore was nearly floored by the intense wave of pity that washed over him as he watched Severus, pale and shaking, sitting before him. His shoulders were hunched as if he was trying to hide inside himself, like the frightened child that the old man had taken nearly twenty-five years ago from a broken home. 

  
  


"Severus, this cannot continue." Dumbledore sighed, easing himself into a chair behind his large ornate desk. 

  
  


"What?" Severus looked up from his cup, frowning. 

  
  


"The information you provide us with is invaluable, but you're killing yourself." he explained, conjuring more tea for him. 

  
  


Severus thirstily drank it down, gripping the cup so hard his knuckles went numb. 

  
  


"I just need a bit of time afterwards . . . to pull myself together." Snape insisted, forcing himself to relax his grip on the fine china cup. 

  
  


Dumbledore raised a disbelieving eyebrow, obviously still worried. The silence compelled Severus to elaborate his reasoning. 

  
  


"Besides, I'm the only spy you have." he said, as if this settled the matter. 

  
  


"I don't care." Dumbledore said firmly. "Your safety is in question, and that is unacceptable."

  
  


"My safety isn't important." Severus stood suddenly, an unreadable expression splashing momentarily across his face. His rapid movement startled the Headmaster, who stood quickly to face him. 

  
  


"It is to me." Dumbledore reasoned.

  
  


"I'm touched." he sneered, but sat back down, and Dumbledore relaxed in relief. He began to pace. 

  
  


"Was it bad, today?" he asked, concern still showing in his voice. 

  
  


"Awful." 

"Cruciatus?"

"No." 

  
  


Dumbledore did not ask him to expand his description. Whatever it was, he knew Severus would not tell him. 

  
  


He sat back down behind his desk, taking a quill and parchment out of a drawer and holding them ready. "What have you learned?" he asked gently, in a business like tone. 

  
  


"Not much," Snape admitted. "They are preparing for something huge, though there are no details as of yet, it will be terrible."

  
  


The headmaster scribbled something down on the paper. "Continue," he asked politely. 

  
  


"It will be a revolution, like the last, only worse. There are much more followers now, a larger army." He toyed with the empty cup in his lap idly, carefully planning his next words. 

  
  


"Damn." the old man cursed under his breath. 

  
  


"You knew it was coming." Snape shrugged, not looking up. 

  
  


"We are hardly prepared. . . . we could do with the support of the ministry, but they continue to turn a blind eye. They will not give support in any way." he shook his head. "Fudge is a fool." he mumbled. 

  
  


"Fudge is dead." Severus stated blatantly. 

  
  


"What?" Dumbledore gaped at him, praying he had heard incorrectly. 

  
  


"Fudge was murdered in his home this morning, during the rally." then he added quickly, "I was not present at the scene of the kill." he sighed, then raised a confused eyebrow at the older man. "I thought you would have known by now."

  
  


'I wasn't informed." he confessed. Snape looked away, nervously biting his lower lip. Dumbledore looked momentarily lost. It was so strange to Snape, having to tell his mentor something he didn't already know. 

  
  


'Was anyone else hurt?" Dumbledore asked finally. 

  
  


"I don't know. I told you I wasn't there. I was at the demon's feet the whole time." he said these last words bitterly, looking murderous. 

  
  


"Was is bad? Do you need to see madam Pomfrey?" The old man asked, abruptly concerned.

  
  


"I'm fine." he stated. Dumbledore saw through the lie in an instant, but decided against commenting. He knew that Severus had retreated far from the conversation by now, hiding within his thoughts until he could cope with what he had seen, or even done. Dumbledore had noticed this recessions periodically in the boy's childhood, when he simply could no longer handle in pressure. 

  
  


"Go get some sleep," he said to him, squeezing his shoulder gently. Severus got up and exited the office, his robes strangely unmoving as he walked. Dumbledore sank back into his chair, deep in thought. Fudge was dead. It was hard to believe. He had never really been a great Minister, and his political stance held no threat to the Dark Lord and his revolutionists. So why kill him? 

  
  


While the headmaster was plagued with these thoughts, Severus was lost in his mind, unwilling to face himself and everyone else until he had gotten some sleep. The safely of his subconscious was polluted, however, with horrific images. Fudge's home was burnt to the ground, the short man lay dead on the lawn, black and charred from the fire. the house elves, who had fled in panic, were killed one by one as they encountered the Death Eaters crouched some distance away, laughing and jeering. 

Severus had not joined them, he sat by Voldemort's chair, the hideous snake Nagini circling around him ominously. Wormtail was there as well, on his Master's other side. Along with the several others in the room, they watched the proceedings in a holographic replica, hovering in the air in front of them. 

  
  


Voldemort's head lolled sideways momentarily, to look at Snape, who kept his eyes rigidly forward. One of the demon's long, white fingers entwined in a lock of Snape's hair, and pulled gently on it, inclining his head towards his master. He braced himself for pain, in case Voldemort decided to tear it from his scalp. The piercing gaze left a moment later, his hair was left alone, and he began to breath again, unsure of when he had stopped in the first place. 

  
  


He rounded a corner in the dungeons, intent on his comfortable destination, when someone spoke to him. 

  
  


Viola had just finished her bath in the head Girl's gigantic bathroom, and was in much better spirits She had forced herself to believe that Brandon hadn't hurt her on purpose, and that their kiss in the hallway was really wonderful. She spotted Snape ahead of her in the hall, walking with his head down slightly. 

  
  


"Hello Professor." a quiet, shy voice piped up from behind him. He wheeled around on the speaker, and Viola started at his quick movement. She shot him a smile and was about to continue on her way past him, when he noticed that her lip was swollen. 

  
  


His sense of responsibility kicked in and he forgot all about sleep. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, and it annoyed him immensely. 

  
  


"What happened to your face?" he asked her coldly and bluntly, and she smiled again, but this time it was more like a grimace. 

  
  


"An accident, sir." She insisted. 

He did not return her smile. He noticed that her hair was dripping wet, bedraggled and hanging over her eyes. In the damp air of the dungeons, the smell of lavender wafted from her, caressing his senses. For a moment he forgot what he was doing, and just looked at her.

  
  


Viola waited politely for him so say something, but his words seemed caught in his throat. She glanced briefly at his eyes, then stared into them intently. She saw such sadness there, so much desperation in their brutal, sable depths. Her fantasy sprung unbidden to her mind again, and despite her futile attempt to kill the feeling, the heat returned and caused her to blush. 

  
  


Her eyes clouded, and he opened his mouth to speak again, but instead regarded the soft skin on her neck, lightly bruised from some passionate encounter. Though Snape was not one to ever become attracted to a student, at that moment he would have loved to bury his face in the gentle curve of her throat, to kiss her lips and touch her hair. 

  
  


He shook his head slightly and backed a step away from her, out of the radius of her intoxicating scent. She looked distinctly uncomfortable, and edged away, as if to leave, but he halted her with a hand on her shoulder. 

  
  


"Viola, if something is wrong - " he began, at last finding his voice. 

  
  


"Nothing is wrong, professor." she murmured, becoming familiar with the callouses on his palm, which she could easily feel through the material of her shirt. 

  
  


"Well, since you are new to Slytherin House, you should know that I am responsible for all my students - "

  
  


"Really it was an accident." she interrupted again, looking slightly worried now. She kept trying to inch away from him. His closeness was causing her to lose all rational thought. But he continued, trying to make everything clear. 

"My door is open to all of my students, should you ever feel the need to tell me anything." she had a feeling that he didn't really like saying that sort of thing, as it was somewhat damaging to his intimidating persona. But he had always treated Slytherins differently, she reminded herself. As much as she hated it when he showed favouritism, she appreciated his show of concern. 

  
  


Their brief conversation seemed to have died out now, and he continued on his way to his rooms, where he toppled onto his bed and tried to fall asleep. 

  
  


He pummelled his brain, asking himself what the hell he had been thinking. For gods sake, she's a student! He shut his eyes tight, but he could still see her, so beautiful with her hair wet, out of her school uniform. 

  
  


He tried to convince himself that he was craving company, as an aftereffect of his morning with Voldemort, which was always a traumatizing experience. He was feeling miserable and afraid of what was coming to him, and it was only natural to desire some companionship, even in it's rawest form. 

  
  


That's what he kept telling himself, but every time he thought it, it felt less true. There was still that look he was almost positive he had seen in her eyes. It was behind the sadness, carefully tucked away behind the look of polite appreciation. He could have sworn that he had seen his own sudden lust, mirrored in her intelligent brown eyes. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


***************************

  
  
  
  


Viola touched her lip and leaned back against the wall, watching him go, wondering what the hell was wrong with her. She thought, with a wry smile, that she must be going crazy. Normal people don't fantasise about someone like Snape. 

  
  


A sudden idea struck her, and she ran outside as fast as she could, heading to the greenhouses where her friends were most likely situated. 

  
  


Sure enough, Gwendolen and Brianna were stretched out on the grass, enjoying the sun before dinner. Gwen had her notebook out in front of her, open to a half finished drawing of the castle. Brianna was being her studious self and doing homework. There was an unusual absence of marijuana, but it could be explained by the even more unusual absence of Randy, which Viola called to attention. 

  
  


"Where's Randy?" 

  
  


Gwendolen looked up and smiled. "Hey Vi, how was your day with Brandon?" She smirked. "Randy's still in Hogsmeade with some Ravenclaws." 

  
  


Viola sat down with them, peering appreciatively at Gwen's drawing. Brianna looked up from her homework, a half finished star chart for divination. 

  
  


"Do you guys know anything about this planetary alignment thing?" she asked, flipping through some papers looking for a reference to said alignment.

  
  


"Not really," Viola shook her head. Astronomy was never her greatest strength. "What's my horoscope for today Bri?" she asked, beaming at her friend. Brianna looked at her chart, noting the position of Capricorn and looking through her book again. After a few minutes, in which Viola watched the clouds drift and Gwendolen signed her drawing with a flourish, Brianna started to laugh. 

  
  


"Capricorn is confused today." she said slowly, her brow furrowed in concentration as she calculated the exact horoscope. "Capricorn is also lusting today. . . more specifically, someone is lusting for Capricorn. Who gave you those love-bites honey?" She pointed at the little hickeys and giggled. Gwendolen held in her amusement, but her innocent curiosity showed through. 

  
  


"Brandon, right?" she shook her head, frowning slightly. "You guys hardly know each other!"

  
  


"Don't lecture me Gwenny." Viola sighed at her friend. "I'm a big girl." She wondered if she should tell them about her rampant imagination regarding Snape, but she had really only planned on telling Randy that. Not that she didn't love and trust the two girls, but Randy was easier to talk to about that sort of thing, probably because he never offered advice. He merely listened, and by hearing herself explain the problem she could figure it out for herself. 

  
  


Brianna discarded the horoscopes, peering closely at Viola. "You bang your face Doll?" She asked, a slight frown hovering on her sunburned features. 

  
  


She touched her lip again, rolling her eyes slightly. "Yeah, it was pretty stupid." That answer didn't seem to satisfy her concerned friends, but they left it alone, turning back to their respective practices. 

  
  


Randy turned the corner around the greenhouses and sat with them, treating them all to a devilish grin, a navy blue beret perched jauntily on his curls. The volume on his walkman was on high, and the headphones were around his neck so everyone could hear that he was listening to Sublime. 

  
  


"Come for a walk with me Randy." Viola suggested. 

  
  


"Sure Vi," and he immediately heaved himself back up and they walked away, leaving Gwen and Brianna to finish their work. 

  
  


Randy put his arm playfully around her shoulders and hugged her briefly. "How's my favourite Slytherin?" he asked her, kissing her loudly on the temple. 

  
  


Randy and Viola knew each other since they were born. Their birthdays were very close together, and they lived in the same apartment building in London their entire lives. Both raised as muggles, they attended school together, and even when they were young they knew that they loved each other to the ends of the Earth. 

  
  


Not the kind of love in which two people sleep together, and eventually get married and grow old together, it was impossible for them to think of the other like that. They could never have a romantic relationship. But they were close enough, that when they were to kiss one another for support or affection, they wouldn't even notice it. 

  
  


When they were both eleven, and got the strange lettres to Hogwarts, they had met in the hallway outside their apartments, both on the way to see the other first. Perhaps it was their closeness that allowed their magical talents to develop together. 

  
  


Viola beamed at him and jokingly threw his arm off of her shoulder. "Randy, I need to ask you something . . ." She told him. His grin left and he tried to be serious. 

  
  
  
  


"What is it? Are you alright?" he asked as they walked, towards the lake. 

  
  


"Yeah, but . . ." she fought with her brain over how to word it simply, but vaguely so he had no idea who she was talking about. "Okay, have you ever felt something that you knew you weren't really feeling?" she asked, grimacing when he raised an sceptical eyebrow. 

  
  


"Like what?" he asked. 

  
  


"Like, um, physical attraction." she mumbled. 

  
  


"Well, your either attracted to someone or your not. . ." he stated simply. 

  
  


"But what if you know you can't possibly be attracted to this person, but for some reason you can't let go of this . . . fancy of them in your mind?" For a minute she thought she had stumped him with that one, because he didn't say anything until they reached the lake and took a seat on the grass. 

  
  


"I don't think the issue is weather or not you are interested in this person, but weather or not you should be." he ventured. 

  
  


"That too." She sighed. 

  
  


"What feels right Viola?" He asked her seriously. "I'm assuming you're not talking about Brandon Carter . . . so do whatever feels right." He threw a pebble into the water, skipping it three times. "Just because Brandon bought you lunch today, it doesn't mean you have to be his girlfriend."

  
  


She smiled at him. "I love you sometimes Randy." she looked out across the lake, watching the squid propel itself idly across the glassy surface of the water. 

"Just sometimes?" He laughed and punched her shoulder, knocking her on her side. "That hurts bad, Vi, I love you all the time." 

While his assessment of her problem was a good one, it still left her confused. She didn't know what felt right. All she had to go by was a couple stray affections. She decided to just let things go their own way. She liked Brandon, and it was obvious that he liked her, so there should really be no problem. As for Snape, it would never work anyway. He was a teacher, she was a student, and plus, she told herself, he would never be interested in her. 

  
  


They laughed and pushed each other around for the next twenty minutes, then met up with Gwendolen and Brianna on their way in for dinner. Viola sat with them at the Hufflepuff table to eat, seeing no real reason to be at the Slytherin table with people who hated her. Upon entering the Great Hall, she glanced around for Brandon, but he wasn't there. Unable to stop herself, her eyes raked the teachers' table, locking with Snape's for a split second. 

  
  


His eyes gave her a chill, and she loved it. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. in which christmas aproaches

I still don't own any of the good stuff. And by good stuff I mean Snape. *prowr* 

again, thanks to Sublime for being so great, providing wonderful mood music to write to. Big thanks to everyone who reviewed, but I want more! It's hard to write a good story if no one sends feedback! 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Chapter 5

  
  


The next few months passed with the regularity of clockwork, as time most often tends to pass. Fall brought with it a wet Quidditch season, but Viola Rienne would not be playing this year. Her failure to make the Slytherin team had disheartened her, but she got over it quickly with the aid of Brandon and her friends, who's wonderful solutions were mostly a very vehement 'screw Quidditch!' She was never one for sour grapes, but it made her laugh all the same. 

  
  


Viola and Brandon had gotten close since their first 'date' in Hogsmeade, much to the discomfort of Viola. She felt a lot for Brandon, but it was more of a friendly sort of feeling. When it came to touching him, or kissing him, she knew that she would ever feel for him the way he felt for her. 

  
  


After a while Brandon began to call her his girlfriend, they ate together and he held her hand on the way to their classes. Viola even had him smoking pot with her friends behind the greenhouses on more than one occasion. When they just acted like friends, she was comfortable with him, but when he tried to get closer, she felt repelled. Sometimes she had to force herself to kiss him goodnight. 

  
  


Brandon could be a little frightening at times. She had only seen him angry twice, and both times weren't directed at her so was able to get over it without much deliberation. Once and a while though, she wondered what he would do if they ever had a fight. Would he get mad and throw things? The thought bothered her, and she avoided it when ever possible. 

  
  


Besides, there was no reason for them to ever have a fight. They got along great. Once and a while she thought about telling him the truth, that she had no romantic feelings for him whatsoever, but every time she opened her mouth to admit it, she remembered how angry he could get. What would he do if they broke up?

  
  


Sometimes she would have nightmares, and she would see him standing in front of her with blood on his mouth and chin, or in the common room in a rage after receiving a letter from home, informing him that his father was being questioned for being a Death Eater.

  
  


She found herself getting taken deeper and deeper into a relationship she didn't want to be in, and it scared her. 

  
  


To make everything worse, things were going wrong in the wizarding world as well. The Dark Lord was getting stronger. The death of Cornelius Fudge triggered a very strong reaction in the Ministry, and repercussions were twice as severe for anyone caught doing anything that might be linked to the Death Eaters. As predicted, the ministry wanted Dumbledore to fill in the position of Minister, but he declined, explaining that he couldn't leave the school in this time of risk. 

  
  


The position of power was left open for a while, but was quickly filled by a very aspiring and hopeful Arthur Weasley. Viola read the story in the Daily Prophet, and thought he looked rather nervous in the picture. Understandable, of course, since the last minister had been burnt to a crisp. 

  
  


Arthur's promotion was a good sign to Dumbledore's cause, the Phoenixes, a group of aurors and those who opposed the Dark Lord and his crusade. While Fudge had stayed neutral in political status, Arthur would take action. She showed the article to Brandon, and he got angry again. 

  
  


For some reason that she didn't understand, Brandon seemed to hate that Mr Weasley was minister of magic. Along with quite a lot of the other Slytherins as well, he seemed to think it should have gone to someone else. Viola thought it was a good thing, but was afraid to say anything with him in such a rage about it. 

  
  


She had sat in the common room by the fire, watching him pace around, throwing the newspaper into the fire violently, his face contorted in fury. She marvelled at how he could look like an angel one minute, with his soft features and shining hair, and then be transformed into a vulgar titan the next. The younger students had fled the room, leaving them alone. He cursed and fumed, red in the face and his hands shaking furiously.

  
  


It took all her will power not to just run the hell out of there, to get away from him. She stayed, rooted to the armchair, her eyes following him around the room. His anger wore itself out, eventually, and he began to look normal again. She breathed a silent sigh of relief, relaxing in her chair. Her knuckles were numb, and she realized that she had been clenching the armrests of her chair so hard a few of her nails were broken. 

  
  


Back to normal again, he sat down on the floor by her chair, resting his head against her knee. Her hand moved to gently stroke his hair, her fingers entwined in the honey locks. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling. He seemed calm now, and Viola tried not to think about his outburst. 

  
  


"Sorry Vi." he apologized. 

  
  


"That's okay." she said quietly, reassuring him. The remembered image of him with blood on his mouth flashed briefly in front of her, but she shoved it out of the way, along with all the other things he had done that had unnerved her. The good times with Brandon far outweighed the bad, and she resolved to stick with him. He was, after all, a good friend, and the thought of his rage turned on her was enough to keep her awake at night. 

  
  


"I'm sorry if I freaked you out." he said simply, not sounding really sorry at all. He looked a little distraught still, and he pulled a little baggy out of his pocket with shaking hands, mumbling about how he needed something to make him relax. At his third attempt to roll a joint, Viola finally took it from him and finished it in a few seconds. He smiled sheepishly at her, and he held her hand on their way outside. 

  
  


**********************

  
  


Time flashed by in a blur of classes and snowstorms, and before long Snape was making his way around the common room, taking the names of those who would be staying at Hogwarts over the Christmas holidays. 

  
  


Viola was working on her divination assignment, a twelve page essay on the history of the Tarot, when someone's hand descended onto the page of her book, pulling it down. She found herself looking into Snape's fierce black eyes. 

  
  


"Will you be going home for Christmas, Miss Rienne?" he asked her impatiently, his tone suggesting that he had been repeating himself to get her attention. 

  
  


"Oh, yes, sir." she mumbled, a faint smile hovering on her lips. She could feel herself blushing and it annoyed her slightly. He left without another word to her, and she returned to her essay. Viola felt a bit bad for the two Slytherins who would be staying. She hated the idea of not being with family over the holidays. 

  
  


Brandon came out of his dormitory then, rushing up to her and kissing her sweetly on the mouth. He pulled her up from her chair and sat himself down in it, pulling her onto his lap where they sat close together, making Viola incredibly uncomfortable. 

"I'm gonna miss you over Christmas, Vi." he spoke into her neck, nuzzling her soft skin, inhaling her delicate scent. She shuddered, but snuggled closer to him in the wide chair and got back to writing, trying to ignore his presence behind her. 

  
  


She had been looking forward quite a bit to her holiday from him, but of course she couldn't say that. "It's only two weeks, you'll survive without me." she smiled, watching Snape out of the corner of her eye. He hardly ever ventured into their common room, but she liked it when he did. He had a sort of paternal air about him around his students, and it made him seem a bit more approachable. It was easy to notice that no matter how evil he was to the rest of the school, he did care about the Slytherins. 

  
  


"But what if I don't?" Brandon's playful inquiry caught her off guard. "What if I die on the way to my house or something?" 

  
  


"I'd scream and cry and break things." she answered quickly. She twisted in his lap and kissed him, ignoring the envious looks from the Slytherin girls, and ignoring the twisting feeling in her stomach. He kissed her deeper, sliding his tongue past her lips and sealing her mouth with his own. She turned further to straddle his hips, her hands clasped on the back of his neck. She knew what he liked, and had learned to play her part pretty well. He used the distraction to grab her textbook and close it on her, delighting in the cutely annoyed look she gave him. 

  
  


"This essay isn't due until after the holidays! Why the hell are you doing it now?" he demanded in shock. "Gods Viola, you take school too seriously!"

  
  


She punched him playfully, wishing she didn't have to. 

  
  


****************************

  
  


Snape left the common room quickly after he had finished his business, beating a hasty path to the headmaster's office. 

  
  


"Ten points from Ravenclaw!" he growled at a second year of that house who nearly collided with him coming around a corner on the third floor. 

  
  


Albus Dumbledore heaved his office door open before Snape had a chance to knock. The older man stepped politely aside and gestured for him to enter and take a seat, the blue eyes sparkled lightheartedly, but he wore a frown on his grizzled face. 

  
  


"I'm not too happy about your plans, Severus." he admitted, sitting behind his desk. 

  
  


Snape shrugged. "I have to do this. I won't . . . contribute anything, but I have to be there." He looked around the office, his black eyes finally falling on Fawkes, who was giving him a dirty look. 

  
  


"Are they starting to suspect you?" Dumbledore asked. "Because if they are, I'm getting you out."

  
  


"You can't just get me out." Severus smiled a cynical, unpleasant sort of smile. 

  
  


"Out of the country then." Dumbledore corrected himself. "They won't find you if you let me hide you." 

  
  


"They will have no reason to suspect me if I go."

  
  


Dumbledore though for a moment, selecting another problem to bring up. "You will be wandless, unable to defend yourself if anything should happen."

  
  


"Depressingly so, yes. None of us will have wands." he answered back hesitantly. "I'm still going." 

  
  


"When will you be back then?" Dumbledore gave up on trying to talk him out of it. Severus could be so annoyingly headstrong at times. 

  
  


"It should only take a few days." Snape reassured him, shuddering inwardly at the thought of a few days with Death Eaters and Voldemort. "I'll be back on Christmas eve." if I live, he added silently to himself. In truth, they were starting to suspect him, which was why he had to go to this rally. 

  
  


It wasn't even a normal rally. It was more of an assemblage for European followers of the Dark Lord. People from all over the continent were coming up to the Riddle Mansion for three days. They were to all surrender their wands temporarily to an anonymous disciple, as a sign of their devotion and absolute trust in their master. It was probably going to be one long, painful sort of party. The festivities would be brutal, and no doubt some of the less dedicated followers would be systematically weeded out of the ranks. 

  
  


"Are you going to be able to last three days with them?" the old man asked quietly, trying to hide his obvious implications from Severus.

  
  


"How so?" He didn't miss a trick. He knew exactly what Dumbledore was talking about, because he had been wondering about it himself. 

  
  


"Three days is all it takes to get you back. That's all it took in the first place to get you to join them." Dumbledore thought there was no point in working his way around the issue, it was a very important one. 

  
  


Snape's eyes narrowed dangerously, and he stood up as if to leave. "How can you possibly think that?" he said quietly, through gritted teeth. 

  
  


"I meant - " Dumbledore started to explain, but was cut off. 

  
  


"I know exactly what you meant." His voice was like ice, his eyes hard and cutting as diamonds. He turned to leave, pausing at the door only to say one more thing. 

  
  


"I know exactly where my loyalties lie. I will be back on Christmas eve."

  
  


He left then in a sweep of black robes, angrily treading down the hallway, too enraged to take points from a student that was running in the opposite direction. He was delayed shortly in the dungeons, where he had to pack a few things into an army style duffel bag, but he was soon gone, aparated to the Riddle House in Little Hangleton. 

  
  


Others were arriving all around him, looking up at the rambling old house with trepidation in their eyes. He handed his wand to a wizard who approached him, without looking at the man's face. The man, who was Peter Pettigrew, went around to all the others who had just arrived, disarming them similarly. 

  
  


The house was magnificent, if a bit decrepit. With dark windows and the roof covered in snow, it looked haunted. 

  
  


Despite the fact that he knew better, Snape had a terrible, nagging feeling that the others had an advantage over him somehow. In reality, though, no one had the advantage in this game, that would continue for the next three nefarious days. Only Voldemort himself had any such superiority, as he held all the wild cards in this game. 

  
  
  
  


**************************

  
  


Viola shared a compartment with Randy, Gwendolen and Brianna on the Hogwarts Express the next day. Thankful to be rid of Brandon early, she had cheered inside when his father showed up at the school to pick him up personally a day early. 

  
  


Brianna was asleep, her head resting in Randy's lap. He idly braided her hair while Gwen instructed him on how to do it, and Viola just stared out the window quietly. The snow was falling, fluffy and light, swirling around in the slipstream of the steam engine. The passing landscape was beautiful, and she was almost afraid to blink, in case she missed any of it. 

  
  


The day passed quickly, and soon the train was screeching to a halt in King's Cross Station, Platform 9 3/4. Viola shook Randy awake, who had fallen asleep in her lap some hours earlier. At his movement, Brianna woke up, feeling the tangle of braids in her hair and groaning. 

  
  


They all hugged each other tightly, planting Christmas kisses on each other's cheeks. Gwendolen's mother was waiting for her on the platform, and Brianna's father was standing with her, waving his daughter over. 

  
  


Viola and Randy's parents could not come onto the platform, being muggles. The two friends held hands and pushed through the barrier, into the muggle version of the train station. 

  
  


"Hey you guys!" Randy's father called from a few yards away. Viola brightened immediately at the sight of her friend's parents. 

  
  


Randy had what many people would call, 'cool parents'. They were basically a couple of old hippies, reeking of pot and always cheerful. 

  
  


"Viola, sweetheart! Your parents asked us to give you a ride home." Viola found herself wrapped up in a very loving hug from Randy's mother. 

  
  


"Thanks Mae," she hugged the older woman just as tight. The four of them walked towards their car, an old, rough model of something that must have been very good once. 

  
  


Back at the apartment building, Viola and Randy separated into their individual homes to spend some quality time with their separate families. 

  
  


"Mummy, dad?" She called as she entered her home. It was exactly how she always remembered it. Small, slightly drafty, since they had always been rather poor, and blue. Her mother had a thing for that colour, and insisted on furnishing every room with it. 

  
  


"Hey honey!" and then more hugs went around. The feeling of Christmas was a tangible thing in her home, the red and green decorations clashing with the predominant blue, but the aura was there. The tree took up most of the cramped living room, and already presents were spilling out from underneath it. 

  
  


Randy's family came by later in the evening, and they all sat around in the living room. It was crowded, so Viola and Randy had to share an armchair, while the parents sat on the couch and Viola's younger brother Darcy had to sit on the floor. 

  
  


Darcy was fourteen now, and had never received a letter for Hogwarts like his sister had. It seemed like she was the only one in her entire family to ever achieve magical ability, but Darcy never seemed to mind. The two siblings got along, but he always got a bit nervous whenever she would talk to him about school or magic. 

  
  


"It's so nice to have you kids home from school," Viola's mother said, a glass of wine in her elegant hand. Viola shot her mother a reproachful look, and she fell silent. 

  
  


Her mother, Felicia, had never shared Viola's enthusiasm for learning magic, and usually treated the subject with scorn or sarcasm. Her father had voiced his disapproval when she got her letter, but had kept his displeasure quiet since that time, not wanting to influence her decision making with his own opinion. 

  
  


She often wished that she had been born to Randy's parents. She felt much closer to Mae and Red than she did to her own parents, they were much more open minded and respectable. 

  
  


"So what are you kids learning this year?" the gruff voice of Red broke the silence. With his large beard and rotund physique, he vaguely resembled a leather-clad Father Christmas at a biker rally. He had no disposition against magic, and had encouraged Randy and Viola to go to the school when they were eleven. 

  
  


Randy was about to answer, but Felicia interrupted him. 

  
  


"We don't need to hear about school." she said shortly, a steely glint in her eyes. Viola felt Randy flinch beside her, and she squeezed his hand reassuringly. 

  
  


Christmas wasn't going to be very fun. 

  
  
  
  


***************************

  
  


Snape's breath was ragged, tearing from his throat in muted, feral moans. It was the middle of the night and the room was dark, so black he couldn't see the face of the woman on top of him. It didn't matter, though, he wasn't interested in her face. 

  
  


Dumbledore had been right. There was something about the presence of the Dark Lord and his followers that had a way of rearranging your priorities. He had barely been at the house a day, and already he had descended so far into his old self he was afraid he wouldn't be able to claw his way out. 

  
  


His anonymous lover reached her climax, tightening around his erection until he came as well, gripping her hips tightly and thrusting into her as hard as he could, drinking in her screams like they could give him life. 

  
  


Her body went limp, and she slumped over his bare chest, breathing hard. As he caught his own breath, he noticed a small red glow about ten feet away, glowing brighter every second or so. Someone was puffing on a cigarette. He supposed that they had been watching, or, given the relative darkness, listening. He didn't care, just lit his own cigarette and twirled the woman's hair lazily around his long fingers. 

  
  


While he smoked, he tried to sort out his thoughts. He wasn't sure if he could last the remainder of te three days, but he knew that if he didn't he was dead. If he changed allegiances again, Dumbledore would know. He wouldn't show mercy this time, Severus knew. Besides, he knew the cost of infidelity only too well. 

  
  


He was a spy. Not a Death Eater. Not any more. He tried to get away, back into the place in him mind where there was no thought. He tried so hard to recede, so he wouldn't have to think about what he was doing, or what he was going to do. It was impossible though. 

  
  


Deep down, he knew what he really believed in. He hated Voldemort. Hated his cause. He couldn't afford to lose himself in the allure, the raw seduction of the Dark Side, because he would not survive another shift in devotion. He truly did believe that Voldemort needed to be stopped, and he wanted to help make it happen. 

  
  


Right now though, he was lost. 

  
  


He finished his cigarette, a sick thought coming to mind. He ashed the butt of the filter on the small of the woman's back, gasping as she bit his chest in pain, but then pleasure. She arched into him, her hand drifting down to grip his manhood, already aroused. 

  
  


"Again, lover?" she purred in her husky, magnetic articulation. He flipped her onto her back so that he was hovering over top of her, tilting her head back to kiss her throat roughly. 

  
  


He felt an urgent hand on his shoulder. The hand belonged to whomever had been watching before. Snape grinned savagely to himself. What the hell . . .

  
  
  
  


********************************

  
  
  
  


Hehe . . . Snape's gonna have a threesome! I wonder if the third is a man or woman . . . oh well, fill in the blanks. I'm having so many ideas right now, it might take a couple more chapters for the actual Sev/Viola thing to start. So many little plots going through my head . . . .the next chapter will be good, I feel bad for Viola. 

  
  


By the way, the series is tied with the Leafs and Islanders, and if the Leafs lose I am gonna cry. Really, honestly break down and sob. They lose way too much . . . if they keep it up, I swear I'll change allegiances. I'll become a Montreal fan, I swear! Don't think I won't! Lol . . None of you guys probably care about the Stanley Cup, but it's a big part of my Canadian Heritage.. 

  
  


Go leafs! And review! 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. Severus contemplates his life, and Viola...

  
  


Chapter 6

  
  


Christmas eve brought with it a glorious snowstorm. Viola woke to the sound of the old building creaking under harsh gusts of icy wind, groaning as if it would collapse. Her first thought was pure innocence. It was Christmas eve! She felt childlike fervour bubble up inside her, until she wanted to squeal in delight. 

  
  


She shivered against the cold in the room, and cursed the cheap apartment vaguely to herself. She wrapped her homemade quilt tightly around her body, resolving not to get out of bed until noon, when she and Randy had planned on going out last minute shopping, something they did together every year. 

  
  


She had a good three hours left until that time though, and she fell back into the most wonderful sleep she had been blessed with in a long time. 

  
  


Viola met Randy later in the hallway, and they set out together to the mall, bundled up into warm winter coats and scarves. The mall was overflowing with people, and the air carried all the familiar Christmas smells, cookies and fresh snow, which was still coming down in fluffy swirls. Viola loved her Christmas excursions with her best friend. It was a chance for them to be muggles for a while, and not worry about anything school related. It was like getting back to their roots. 

  
  


Before they could do anything else, Randy grabbed her wrist and pulled her into Mairy Jaines, a small store which sold paraphernalia. Christmas had always been full of traditions for Randy and Viola, and the first was always buying new pipes for each other. Then they got their picture taken together with Father Christmas. Afterwards, they entered a clothing store to try some things on. 

  
  


The clothes in this store were expensive, and strange. They loved to go in and try a bunch of things on, and buy none of it. It was a fun way to spend the afternoon, and also to get the employees angry. 

  
  


"Do you kids even have money?" A lady asked incredulously, eyeing the pile of clothing the two were planning to try on. 

  
  


"Of course we have money!" Viola tried to look huffy, but could hardly contain her laughter. 

  
  


In the tiny cubicle Viola threw off her clothing, conversing animatedly with Randy who was in the next stall. 

  
  


"What are you wearing?" Randy called across to her, pulling a terribly flashy shirt over his head. 

  
  


"Something quite tasteless." she laughed, doing up the pants. 

  
  


"Lets see then!" 

  
  


They flung open the doors at the same time and stepped out. Randy was wearing tight, studded leather pants and a v-neck purple shirt. Viola had selected striped pants with a thick belt and a black corset style tube top. 

  
  
  
  


"I look like a whore." she did a quick turnaround in front of the mirror, assessing her appearance. 

  
  


"And I," Randy drew himself up proudly, hands on hips, "Look like the owner of the best Gay Bar in London."

  
  


"You look great, Babe," she told him sweetly. 

  
  


He seemed distracted suddenly, as if he was thinking about something else. She gave herself another once-over in the mirror, then turned back into the dressing room to try something else. 

  
  


Randy looked around quickly, to make sure no one was staring at them. He moved closer to Viola, as if he was going to tell her something in her ear. She shot him a confused look, but didn't move away. He took this as a good sign, ad continued to move closer. He placed a hand on her cheek, and pulled her face gently up to his, placing his lips softly over hers. 

  
  


Viola was a bit put out by this, as it was definitely not another of those friendly little kisses she exchanged with her friend. He was actually kissing her, clumsily, since as far as she knew he didn't have much experience with that sort of thing. 

  
  


She was shocked, and pushed gently on his chest, trying to extract herself from his embrace. She found herself staring into the eyes of her best friend. The boy who had toddled around with her in diapers when they were babies, and who was her blood brother in third grade. He was the world to her, but kissing him was like kissing a family member, and she couldn't do it. 

  
  


He was too smart to not notice the look in her eyes. It was a sympathetic look, nervous, and a bit ashamed. He pulled away from her quickly, biting his lip in embarrassment. His face reddened furiously as he mumbled an apology. 

  
  


She hated to see him like this, so unhappy. It broke her heart. He knew by now that he had made a terrible mistake, and was overcome by how stupid he was. He hammered his brain to find something to say to her to shatter the tension between them, but he didn't think there were any words in the English language strong enough to erase what he had just done. 

  
  


She opened her mouth to speak, to somehow say anything to end the awkward moment, but before she could even open her mouth he had backed off, back into his dressing room. The click of the lock turning brought tears to her eyes, and she dejectedly turned back into he own change room to get into her normal clothes and go home. She knew Randy would leave before she finished changing, and she was glad. It would be hell to sit through dinner in the food court with something like that hanging freshly over their heads. 

  
  


Sure enough, when she left the store a few minutes later, Randy was nowhere to be seen. She went home alone. 

  
  
  
  


***************************

  
  


There was three circles. The innermost ring contained thirteen people, hooded and masked, spaced evenly on the ground. Behind them were thirty others, closer together, also hidden behind black silk. And then, last of all, a larger circle, full of people standing shoulder to shoulder. 

  
  


Voldemort was standing in the centre, revolving slowly, looking them all over with moderately scourging red eyes. The mood was sombre, but not yet threatening. 

  
  


Snape was in the first circle. He hadn't stood there in years, since before the first downfall of the Dark Lord. He rejoiced at having Voldemort's trust again, because surely that meant more information he could get for Dumbledore, which might change the old man's mind about getting Snape out of the country. 

  
  


"These past three days have been interesting, if nothing else." Voldemort started to speak in his hollow, deathlike voice. The sound rolled through Severus, causing him to shake slightly. The other Death Eaters were reacting similarly, but Voldemort loved it when they were afraid, he wouldn't have it any other way. 

  
  


"Over these past few days, I have learned very much, about all of you. Where there was doubt, now some of you have redeemed yourselves. Some of you I was sure of, but now I am reconsidering. Congratulations to all of you standing here, though, because you made it. You'll notice that our number is slightly fewer than it was on Friday." He paused, allowing himself an evil smile. Little beads of sweat broke out on Snape's forehead. He held his breath. 

  
  


"Before you disperse, back to your families for Christmas, I would love to show you what happened to those who didn't make it." the voice was a low growl now, and the eyes glowed brighter red. Severus wanted more than anything to just close his own eyes and not look, but it was impossible. He tried so hard, but his eyes were glued open by some invisible force. 

  
  


He looked. They all looked at what happened to disloyal Death Eaters.

  
  


He bit his lip hard behind his mask. So hard he tasted his own blood, but he didn't care. 

  
  


It was all he could do to keep from screaming. 

  
  
  
  


************************************

  
  


Viola was sad. Sad in the most severe way she could manage. She lay on her bed in her tiny blue room, her headphones blaring System of a Down into her brain. There was a razor blade in her right hand, and her left arm was draped across her lap, palm facing up. The sweater she had placed underneath the arm was soaked with blood. 

  
  


Viola was crying. She was crying hard, dry sobs. No tears, just painful heaves in her chest that made her want to scream. 

  
  


She felt bad for Randy. She knew that she had hurt him, and couldn't stand that. She loved him, more than anything really, and now they might never forget what had happened. Thinking back, she knew it was her fault. She could recall the vague conversation that they had back in September. 

"Okay, have you ever felt something that you knew you weren't really feeling?" 

  
  


"Like what?" 

  
  


"Like, um, physical attraction." 

  
  


"Well, you're either attracted to someone or you're not. . ."

  
  


"But what if you know you can't possibly be attracted to this person, but for some reason you can't let go of this . . . fancy of them in your mind?"

  
  


She cursed her obscurity violently. He thought that she was talking about him. It made sense. She hadn't used names, and he must have put two and two together in his head, however incorrectly. He thought she was attracted to him, and he acted on it. 

  
  


Oh gods . . . how long has he been seeing me like this? She thought to herself, slicing a rather deep gash into her skin. He must have been harboring his crush on her for months. She felt even worse. 

  
  


Gods, what's Brandon going to do if he finds out? This thought sobered her instantly. She shuddered, suddenly very cold. Brandon's ire would be easily taken out on her friend if he knew what had passed between them. 

  
  


She heard the door slam in the other room. Her parents and brother were home. She hadn't realized how late it was, but a glance at her clock told her it was nine, time to go to church. 

  
  


She wanted to laugh. Church! It was so strange how she kept going every Christmas with her parents, when she had long ago given up the constricting governance of organized religion. It was a way to keep her parents happy with her. If she stayed as normal as possible on holidays, they would allow her to keep going to Hogwarts. Apparently, they told her, normal people go to church on Christmas. 

  
  


Frantically she strove to clean herself up, flinging her closet open to find her church clothes. Blood was still leaking out of her arm, dripping onto the carpet. Red on blue, it stood out horribly. She knew she would never get the stains out. 

  
  


Darcy was calling her. It was time to go, but she wasn't ready. She was looking for her wand now, rushing madly to remember a healing charm to get herself fixed up.

  
  


Someone was pounding on the door. Shit! She swore in her head. Shit shit shit! She couldn't find the damn dress. 

  
  


Viola, it's time to go." the gruff voice of her father rang out from the other room. "Hurry up." he was sounding a bit annoyed. She could have cared less though. She had finally located the stupid dress, but in her rush she accidentally spotted it with blood. She was starting to feel a bit nervous, since she was bleeding heavily, and was beginning to feel lightheaded and dizzy. 

  
  


Yes! The wand! It had fallen under her bed, and only by chance did she spot it, while inspecting the blood on the floor. The healing spell had completely slipped her mind though. If only she had access to Snape's class, she mused sadly to herself, she would be able to have a potion made in ten minutes. 

  
  


Her mother was getting impatient, and strode across the living room to her daughter's bedroom door. 

  
  


"Viola, are you coming?" 

  
  


"Just a second, mum. . ." came her distracted reply. 

  
  


Felicia sighed, then pushed open the door. Her exasperated visage transformed immediately to one of horror. Viola was standing in the middle of the tiny room, a wand in her hand and her right arm dripping blood down to her fingertips. The girl's eyes were red rimmed and sad, and she looked scared, like a cornered animal, desperate to get out of the confrontation which was looming ahead of her. 

  
  
  
  


******************************

  
  
  
  


Severus was forced to linger at the Riddle House a little longer than he had expected. He wanted more than anything to run away, with the sight of the punishment which awaited him burned into his brain, ensuring that he would never forget what he had coming. Oh gods, he thought, the image floating in the back of his mind. Their eyes. 

  
  


Don't think. 

  
  


Their poor eyes. 

  
  


Keep moving. 

  
  


He paced around the empty house, dark and forbidding with scurrying shadows playing over the walls. He was listening to the wind outside, waiting for Wormtail to finish his business with the Dark Lord and find him so he could leave. He wanted his wand back desperately, such an urgent need to no longer be defenceless, and it was starting to pain him. The sky outside was dark, but he had no idea what time it was. The past three days had been somewhat of a haze, the only solid memory he possessed of it was the sight of the disloyal Death Eaters. It had scared him deeply. 

  
  


He vowed to kill himself before allowing himself to be caught and punished like that, shredded and mutilated, eyes carved ruthlessly out of his skull . . .

  
  


He shook his head, trying to dispel the dark thoughts. He had been a double crosser all his life, and only the fact that he was a good liar had kept him alive. But not for long, he knew it would catch up with him eventually. 

  
  


Wormtail emerged from the darkness behind him, causing the usually stolid man to jerk uncharacteristically in surprise. 

  
  


Wormtail smirked evilly at him. "Nervous, Sev?" he teased. Snape ignored his remark, and instead turned his languid gaze towards a window, waiting for Peter to explain himself. 

  
  


"Everyone's left." he started. "I want you to get the wands." 

  
  


"Where are they?" Severus asked sharply, without hesitation. He couldn't afford to show indecisiveness. 

  
  


"Mulcibre has them in his pawn shop." he glanced apprehensively at the ground as the huge snake Nagini moved ominously down the hallway, giving the two men a reproachful look. Wormtail flexed his silver hand and shivered. 

  
  


"Quite a show today," he said quietly, his voice carefully blank. He was no doubt thinking the same paranoid thoughts as Severus. Snape didn't answer, instead he turned on his heel and stalked off, in a dreadful hurry to leave for London. 

  
  
  
  


***************************

  
  
  
  


"I'm not missing school to go to a goddamn halfway house!" Viola's harsh words pierced through her parents defences. They weren't prepared for her to retaliate so fiercely to their decision, when they were only trying to do what was best for her. 

  
  


But often when parents try to do what is best for their children it blows up in their well-meaning faces, and this was apparently no exception. Darcy had locked himself in his bedroom for the argument, his headphones turned up loudly to drown out the noise in the adjoining room. Viola's parents had forgotten completely about church. They sat stiffly in their nice clothes, Felicia tying a bandage rather tightly around her daughter's arm. 

  
  


"Viola," her father spoke up firmly. "We warned you about this last time. We need to send you somewhere where you can get some help." his voice carried a note of pleading that almost broke his daughters heart, but she stood fast in her fury. 

  
  


"I can't just not go back to school, I'm graduating this year!" She added to her defence. 

  
  


"The only reason we let you go back t that damn school year after year is to keep you happy." Her mother's blunt words caused Viola to crumple. She stared at her mother in shock. 

  
  


"To keep me happy?" she repeating in disbelief. 

  
  


"But it's obviously not working, so we're going to try something else." Felicia crossed her arms over her chest, her jaw set. "Anyway, all this nonsense about magic and palm reading and potions - "

  
  


"Those classes are important!" she protested. "I won't get my wizarding licence without those." 

  
  


"They aren't teaching you anything useful there. You should be in a normal school, learning things like science and math." 

  
  


"What good are those things ever going to do?" Viola sneered irately, her face contorted as she fought back tears. "If I can't be in control of my magic - "

  
  


Her father interrupted her. "All that shit you pulled off when you were younger you mean?" he asked incredulously. "That stuff you did when you were a kid? You think that was magic?"

  
  


"Of course it was magic! Things don't just burst into flame, or disappear whenever they want." she looked at her parents as if they were idiots. How could they have not recognized the raw magic she was capable of as a child? The way things that angered her had a strange way of destroying themselves shortly after, or how things would crash off their shelves in stores when she walked by, how could it have been anything but magic?

  
  


"We'll send you to a nice place, honey, not far from home, and definitely not a halfway house." her father tried to reassure her, but she shook her head. 

  
  


"No." was all she managed to say. Actually faced with the prospect of never going back to Hogwarts, she was quite afraid. She found that she was prepared to do almost anything to get back there, even if it meant going directly against her parents, no compromising, which was something she had never done, or indeed thought she would have to do. 

  
  
  
  


"I refuse to be institutionalized." her final words were hard, but she managed to choke them out. 

  
  


Her father was suddenly enraged. "Then get the hell out." he spat at her. 

  
  


Viola ran from him, afraid he was angry enough to become violent. She paused at the doorway long enough to grab mittens and a scarf, and left the apartment with her wand clenched tightly in her hand. 

  
  


She looked up and down the dark streets of London, the snow still coming down to mute the bright Christmas decorations hanging from street lamps. 

  
  


Great work Viola. She congratulated herself. Now you have nowhere to go. 

  
  
  
  


***************************

  
  
  
  


The crowds were just starting to disperse on the London street. The Christmas cheer, the glowing lights and the fluffy snow filled Viola with a sort of inner warmth she so desperately needed. None of these things, however, seemed to touch the man on the other side of the road. He wore a black leather trench coat which swirled ominously around his black leather boots, his collar flipped up against the cold, concealing his sallow face. His broad shoulders were hunched and his head bowed against the harsh wind, lank hair whipped around his head, his hands stuffed into the deep pockets of his coat.

  
  


He seemed to repel the lovely falling snow, and his presence darkened the busy street, making it seem more like winter and less like Christmas eve, but Severus Snape hated Christmas anyway. 

Severus had paused on the snowy London sidewalk. The thoughts were dark, just like they always were. All he could do was stand there, overcome by the tidal wave of intense transgression coursing through his throbbing veins. 

  
  


He was freezing, the muggle clothing he had donned offered enough protection against the bitter cold, but he was freezing from the inside. He thought he was going to die out in the street like some pathetic drifter. His entire body ached from exertion and repressed sobs. He wanted to weep, he wanted to die. There was no reason not to. He had survived his three days of testing, but what now? Just keep going back again and again until he was found out and killed? He didn't want to do it anymore. 

  
  


He closed his black eyes tight, hiding further inside his billowing coat, trying to block everything out for a minute. 

  
  


Where had everything gone wrong?

  
  


He leaned back against the streetlight, lighting a cigarette with shaking hands. 

  
  


What horrible sequence of events had led him into this hell? What bad decisions could have possibly caused everything to go so unbearably wrong? 

  
  


Then he saw her. 

  
  


Viola could feel his eyes on her as she tried to enter the Leaky Cauldron in search of a room. After trying unsuccessfully many times to hail the Knight Bus, she had resorted to finding lodging in the only wizarding establishment she knew of in London, as shabby as it happened to be, it was warm so she didn't really care. 

  
  


The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she was compelled to look over her shoulder at the man across the street. He was still looking at her, making her slightly uneasy, like an icy hand squeezing the breath from her lungs, his gaze captivated her. His liquid black eyes drilled through her, flashing dangerously from behind a windblown lock of hair. 

  
  


He watched her enter the pub, and he never moved from his place across the street. He would have to leave eventually to get the wands, but for the time being he needed to wait, finish his smoke and try to calm down. 

  
  


He tossed the butt of he cigarette onto the ground in disgust. He had never smoked so much in his life, as far as he could recall, and his throat was scratchy and raw, but he didn't care, as long as he was able to loosen his muscles slightly. 

  
  


He was just about to start moving again when the door to the Leaky Cauldron swung open again. The innkeeper, Tom, had Viola by the arm, and was forcefully leading her out. 

  
  


"I'll get money tomorrow, I just really need a place to stay!" her frightened statement floated across the street to his ears. 

  
  


"Go home." the agitated old man insisted, closing the door forcefully in her face. 

  
  


"Fuck!" she yelled in frustration, kicking the closed door violently, as if it would do any good. Snape found the sight of her getting kicked out of a pub in the middle of the night on Christmas eve disturbing. He watched her with interest as she looked around, attempting to hail the bus again, without success. 

  
  


He shook his head in pity. The Knight Bus was never out on Christmas. She was stuck in muggle London with no money. She looked like she was going to cry, and she appeared very cold. She was in trouble, he decided. He was pulled out of his dark reverie just by the sight of her. She was like an angel to his inner demons, and he had to help her, if not just because Dumbledore would kill him if he didn't, but because he needed to do something right. 

  
  


He had one more evil thing to do for the night, but he would help her first. In the midst of every vile thing he had managed to accomplish, he would do one good, and take her to Hogwarts.

  
  


Viola was getting herself into a right panic now. It was late, so very cold and stormy, she had nowhere to go, and the man across the street was still watching her. He was giving her chills, so different from the cold of the winter night. The chills were familiar though, but she couldn't remember how.

  
  


Her fear increased tenfold when the man began to walk, seemingly towards her. She almost collapsed with relief, however, when the sharp wind blew the long hair away from his face, and she recognized him. 

  
  


"Professor Snape?" she asked stupidly, taking a cautions step towards him. He was the last person she had expected to run into in a situation like this. She could have laughed at her idiocy. She had thought he was some sort of madman.

  
  


"Why aren't you at home?" he asked angrily, halting in front of her. 

  
  


She looked at the ground, unable to face him. She shivered in the cold, hugging herself to keep warm. She didn't really fancy explaining her current situation to her Head of House. 

  
  


He eyed her repugnantly, taking in her attire before shucking off his long coat and draping it gently over her shoulders. She was enveloped suddenly by the leather coat, which was wonderfully soft velvet on the inside. It was full of lingering heat from his body, which warmed her to the bone. She wrapped it around herself protectively, breathing in his scent which clung to the fabric, so masculine and alluring.

  
  


"What the hell are you playing at?" he asked her, now quite cold himself. He had nothing on underneath the coat except a thin white shirt. Without warning, he started walked again, and she had to almost run to keep up with his long strides. 

  
  


"I'll take you to Hogwarts." he said simply, without looking at her. He slowed his pace slightly so she could keep up. 

  
  


"Thank you." she mumbled appreciatively. She wanted to ask whereabouts they were going, since they could just apparate to Hogwarts, but she didn't think he was in a good mood for conversation. After about ten minutes of walking in silence he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. 

  
  


"Keep your face covered until I say it's safe." he instructed her. "And don't say anything." she flipped up the collar of the huge coat, pulling her scarf up to her eyes, glancing up at him to see if he approved. 

  
  


It seemed he did approve, because he started walking again, twice as fast as before. They arrived at a seedy looking pawn shop. He gave her a look that seemed to reinforce his prior commands, and opened the door, standing aside so she could enter and then following her in. 

  
  


The shop was dimly lit, and full of things which Viola would bet her broomstick were stolen. She peered around curiously, intrigued greatly by the present events. She desperately wanted to ask Snape what he was doing here, of all places, in the middle of the night, but told herself it would have to wait until later. 

  
  


He seemed loath to leave her alone, but strode purposefully to the back of the shop and pounded a fist loudly on the counter. 

  
  


"Mulcibre!" he shouted through a door heading into the storage area of the building. A short, rotund sort of man with shifty eyes meandered out to face Snape across the counter. 

  
  


Viola tuned out their conversation, thinking it rude to eavesdrop. She wandered around the dank little outlet, keeping her eyes down and her hands concealed in the wide sleeves of Snape's coat. As her observation of the wares brought her closer to the two men, she overheard intriguing little bits of their dialogue. 

  
  


"Am I the first one back?" Snape asked him quietly. 

  
  


"Yes, Wormtail told me you would be getting the wands." Mulcibre murmured, one of his strange eyes following Viola as she moved uneasily around the store. Snape noticed him watching, and lashed out, grabbing the front of his grimy shirt and pulling him over the counter. 

  
  


"Look at her and I'll kill you." he growled. "Keep that lazy eye of yours on more important things, and get the goddamn wands out here." He let go of his shirt like it was a piece of garbage, glancing at Viola out of the corners of his eyes, which appeared slightly amused. She smiled slightly under the scarf, her eyes twinkling in fascination. 

  
  


Mulcibre disappeared into the back room for a minute, then emerged with a brown paper bag. 

  
  


"You and your whore can clear the fuck out Snape." he uttered irately. Snape nodded, grabbed the bag and exited the shop after Viola, guiding her to the door with a strong hand on her lower back. 

  
  


*****************************

  
  


They are gonna hook up soon. The romance is tangible! He he . . . I am watching the hockey game as I write, and I've realised that the 2002 Stanley Cup Playoffs will be traceable later, by reading my notes at the beginning and end of these chapters, by me reporting on every game Toronto plays. The game is tied now in the third period, I hope they go into overtime, I love it when games go into overtime! It gets so intense. The series is within the grasp of Toronto. 

Sorry, I feel extra Canadian today. It's snowing, and its May. Oh freakin Canada. Do you hear me God?! Oh FREAKIN CANADA!

  
  
  
  



	7. it's going to be a very merry christmas ...

Urg, this one took a while, I've been distracted by real life . . . but said distraction has gone tree planting for two months . . . That makes me sad, but now I have time to write something. . . I tried to do this last night, but I can't allow myself to write anything while on mushrooms. It would be frightening. You wouldn't believe the shit I was considering putting in here, like, Snape playing Devil Went Down To Georgia on the violin, which just wouldn't make any sense, although the delusion was quite interesting at the time. By the way, I'm not encouraging drug use. Drugs fuck you up kiddies. 

  
  


Anyway, to MiZ PuNk, I live in a stupid little hic town around Sault St Marie, ever hear of a place called Wawa? Probably not, no one has. but I've been to Oshawa and it's nice there :)

  
  


To wolf, do you mean Paul Henderson the Hockey Player, or just some guy who happens to be named Paul Henderson? The guy who kicked ass in the USSR/Canada series? The proverbial Cold War on ice? I'm jealous. Thanks for the kind words, I tip my glass to you. 

  
  


To Vanessa, you like the way the plot fits together eh? I wasn't aware that the plot did such a thing. :) but thank you a million times!

  
  
  
  
  
  


Chapter 7

  
  
  
  


After the strange scene in the pawnshop, Snape led Viola on an exceedingly long walk into the dark, cold depths of London. He stopped only once, to root through the paper bag and pull out a wand- presumably his, and slip it up his sleeve. 

  
  


He looked quite cold, and Viola felt bad about usurping his coat for so long. His usually sallow face was red from the wind, and his eyes were watering. She had never seen him show any physical signs of mortal life, and it was interesting to see such an unyielding person be swayed by anything. 

  
  


Viola, however, was cozy and warm, and despite the relative strangeness of her evening she was feeling much better about leaving home. Christmas at Hogwarts would be enjoyable, she thought, since Brandon wasn't there, she could have some time to herself. 

  
  


Her arm was stiff, and she regretted the slashes deeply, mentally making a note to heal them once she got back to the school. There was a pang of guilt suddenly, when she thought about Randy. He would most definitely come to see her in the morning, since he wasn't the type to stay silent for long no matter what, and he would be quite worried if he found her missing. 

  
  


She realized very suddenly where Snape was taking her when they reached Kings Cross Station. Obviously, they were going to take a train to Hogsmeade instead of just aparating to Hogwarts. It made sense, since Snape looked like he hadn't slept in a few days and apparition was a difficult task, especially with two people. She had a feeling that he would have splinched the both of them it he attempted the faster mode of transportation, so she couldn't really begrudge the all-night train ride they were heading toward. 

  
  


Kings Cross Station was completely deserted. The storm had now intensified, and everyone had retreated back to their cozy homes for Christmas. Snape suggested that she continue to cover her face, and she gladly obliged. She felt a bit sorry for him, his cheeks raw from wind burn while she was in some sultry version of leather heaven. 

  
  


She pushed through the stone barrier between platforms nine and ten with ease, following him through to platform nine and three quarters. There was a steam engine waiting there, not the Hogwarts Express but a normal passenger train. 

  
  


"Get on the train." he said to her silently, his frozen lips barely moving. In the shadows around the platform she made out shuffling forms, people lurking in the darkness. Snape gripped the plain paper bag a bit harder, indicating the open door on the last car of the train with a toss of his head. 

  
  


Viola turned at ran into the train, out of the cold. In a compartment, she ducked down on the seat and peered out the window at the gloomy platform, watching the people in the shadows emerge at last to meet Snape. She squinted at them, but couldn't make out any faces. They, conscientious of the bitter cold, had bundled up. Severus threw the bag onto the ground by their feet, and turned to get onto the train himself. She was shocked at the strange peoples' behaviour; they practically dived onto the paper bag, tearing it open and spilling it's contents onto the ground, where the wands rolled in every direction, for them to sort through on their hands and knees. 

  
  


She turned away from the window just in time, because Snape appeared in the doorway to her compartment a moment later and she would have hated to be caught spying. He entered slowly, and closed the door behind him. With a searching glance in her direction, he took a seat across from her. He didn't offer any conversation as he unlaced his heavy boots, kicking them off and pulling his feet onto the seat, sitting cross legged facing her. 

  
  


"Would you be so kind," he finally spoke, easing the tension slightly, "as to reach into the pocket of my coat and hand me my cigarettes?" 

  
  


She did so promptly, reaching out to hand him the half empty pack. "I didn't realized you smoked, Professor." she mentioned amiably. 

  
  


He smirked, not at her but seemingly at himself. "I usually don't." He lit a cigarette and took a long drag, leaning back into the soft seat, watching the platform slowly slide away out the window as the train heaved itself into motion. 

  
  


"Are you stressed out about something?" she asked meekly, blushing furiously as his head jerked up, fixing her with an icy glare. "It's just that some people smoke a lot when they're stressed out . . ." she trailed off, still flushing crimson under his intense gaze. 

  
  


"You could say that." he replied after a moment. "Viola, may I ask you a question?" 

  
  


"Of course Professor." she frowned, curious. 

  
  


"Why aren't you at home?" He looked directly into her eyes, trying to read the emotions hiding there, carefully wrapped up in fake pleasantness and imperturbability. "You were the last person I expected to meet on Christmas eve out on the street." He told her coldly, as if he wasn't too pleased to have met her. 

  
  


Truthfully, she wasn't to delighted with being stuck on a train with him either. In such close quarters with the object of her past, very strange, fantasies, she was vividly reminded of the delicious chills he was capable of providing her. 

  
  


"I was kicked out." she answered the question simply, trying to compose her thoughts accordingly. "May I ask you a question, sir?" 

  
  


"No." He shook his head. 

  
  


"Why did you have those peoples' wands?" She asked anyway. 

  
  


"That's none of your business." 

  
  


"But it's your business what goes on at my home?" colour rose briefly in her face in anger. 

  
  


"Yes, as a matter of fact, it is." He looked slightly amused at her indignation, but didn't bother to provoke her further. 

  
  


Despite the heat of the train, Viola kept herself bundled up in the large coat, finding it a comfort from her terrible day. Her cuts were throbbing, and it was hard to ignore the incessant ache. To distract herself, she watched her potions teacher discreetly, noting his movements and playing guessing games in her mind as to what he was thinking. 

  
  


She watched him finish his cigarette and toss the butt into a small ashtray in the arm of the chair. He caught her eye for a second, but looked away without saying anything. He stretched, causing his shirt to lift slightly, revealing a small patch of skin and his navel. She tried not to notice how taught his abdomen looked, or how the fabric of his shirt strained around his broad shoulders, outlining every finely toned muscle there. Her mouth felt suddenly dry.

  
  


He knew she was watching him, and he was slightly unnerved. He had never enjoyed the feeling of eyes on him, it was disturbing. He knew he probably owed her some answers for his strange behaviour, but he couldn't think up a good enough lie. He respected her intelligence, and knew she would see through whatever facade he presented her with. 

  
  


She was still watching. Those big brown eyes were peering at him over the turned up collar of his coat, almost unblinking. Such pretty eyes . . . He thought, before he could stop himself. A few seconds later he realized that she hadn't looked away. He felt peculiarly self-conscious under her thorough stare.

  
  


"Who were those people?" she asked abruptly, shattering the silence effectively, forcing Snape to break away from her gaze and sneer.

  
  


"None of your damn business," he said again. He sounded less angry, and just slightly bored. He began to ignore her. Viola's eyes danced over his form as he undid the top button of his shirt, and reached his hand inside to rub his shoulder delicately, as if the muscles there had begun to pain him. His eyes closed slightly, seemingly oblivious to her presence and almost relaxed. 

  
  


He glanced at her again, but by now she had turned her eyes to the window, the reflections of telephone poles outside mirrored in her eyes. Slowly, she extracted herself from the coat, draping it instead over her legs like a blanket. She removed her scarf methodically, tossing it onto the seat beside her, in a heap with her mittens. 

  
  


Suddenly it was his turn to watch her in rapt fascination, as she attempted to tame her windblown hair with her small, slender hands, wrapping stray strands around her thin white fingers. Her eyes fluttered closed briefly, then opened again, a smile hovering over her soft pink lips, slightly chapped from the cold outside preceding the warmth of the train. 

  
  


Her tongue flicked out gently, wetting a glistening trail across her lower lip before disappearing back into her mouth. The small manoeuver struck Snape as being incredibly erotic, and he marvelled at how seductive her eyes seemed, narrowed lazily, but still sharp. He swallowed hard, his eyes glued to her collarbone, showing slightly under the firm skin of her upper chest, manifesting as she breathed in and out above the small swell of her breasts. 

  
  


In her peripheral vision, she saw his Adam's apple bob up and down slightly as he gulped for air. His lovely hand gripped the armrest of the chair, lank hair hanging over alluring eyes that tried so hard not to watch her. 

  
  


He was craving her. 

  
  


Stop it Severus, that's disgusting . . . He searched for something to say, anything that would pulverize the electricity crackling between them before he lost all control. 

  
  


"What could the Head Girl of Hogwarts have possibly have done to merit exclusion from her family?" his voice simply oozed arrogance, and the familiar drawl made Viola scowl. 

  
  


Briefly, she was tempted to tell him off, but thought better of it. She remained silent for a moment, before deciding what to tell him, and in the end decided to give him a highly edited version of events, leaving out the gorier aspects.

  
  


"They weren't going to let me return to school." She told him evasively, relived to see that he didn't particularly care, which made it easier. No pity washed over his face, no compassion or understanding, and she was grateful. She wasn't sure if she could handle pity from him. His indifference made it easier to talk. 

  
  


He regarded her thoughtfully for a few seconds, the tension between them growing again. He knew she was leaving a vast majority of the problem out of her small narrative, but he didn't press her further for details. 

  
  


Instead he said, "Is school important enough for you to leave home?" 

  
  


"Yes." she said levelly, not wanting to explain her answer. He simply nodded, idly fiddling with his lighter and looking at the floor. She noticed a Harley Davidson logo engraved on the side of the zippo, and it reminded her of Randy. His father, Red, owned a Harley, and once she had driven it with Randy. She almost laughed aloud at the memory, he was clinging to her waist, eyes clenched shut as she roared down the street on the beautiful motorbike. 

  
  


She noticed that while she was reminiscing, Snape had said something to her. "Pardon?" She said, paying attention now. 

  
  


"I said I know what you mean." he repeated. She had a feeling that it had been a difficult thing for him to say. 

  
  


The two of them were silent for a long time, long enough for Viola to consider moving to her own compartment and trying to sleep. The small quarters were now unbearably hot, and she removed the huge coat from her legs, bundled it up and used it as a sort of pillow. She reclined comfortably, stretched out over three seats. 

  
  


Snape smirked at her. "I'm pleased to see you enjoy my coat so much." he remarked. 

  
  


"Would you like it back?" she said, just as sarcastically. She didn't look at him. She couldn't. She knew that if she looked, her eyes would betray her, moving over the handsome length of his body. 

  
  


He, in turn, had also abstained from looking at her, those long legs, gently curved, sprawled all over the seats. Instead, they turned their attention to desperate conversation. 

  
  


"What time is it?" she asked amiably, after an unidentifiable amount of time spent immersed in discussion about literature, Quidditch, and family. Snape had found a way to get her to open up and satisfy his urge to be responsible, and it was to open up himself. He established that by sharing small details about his own childhood, nothing too revealing, he could squeeze little tidbits out of her, and soon he had a very good idea about the circumstances in which she had left her home. 

  
  


He was finding his time with her enjoyable, strangely, since he had always been one to seek and cherish his solitude. It seemed that after three entire days with some of the most terrible people he had ever met, it was rather nice to have some decent company. The lust he had initially felt was now gone, hiding in the back of his mind so he could concentrate on other things. 

  
  


"It's midnight." he replied, glancing at his watch. A sad smile crossed her face, and she looked again out the window. 

  
  


"Happy Christmas," she said in a heavy sort of voice, which indicated to the susceptible Potions Master that this Christmas was anything but happy. 

  
  


Viola's presence offered him a nice distraction from the dark thoughts which would have normally been plaguing him, and he was dreadfully grateful for that. It was nice to not have to force thoughts out of his head, pacing until he collapsed. 

  
  


Yes, he supposed, it is nice. 

  
  


Viola's dismal thoughts were fading, replaced now by vague excitement. She was still facing two weeks without Brandon, and Hogwarts was her favourite place to be, so why be sad? She knew her parents would let her come home at the end of the year. They never really followed through on rash decisions, their tempers were just a little short sometimes. 

  
  


"Happy Christmas?" he repeated in a hollow voice. "Do you really believe that?"

  
  


The dispirited smile vanished. "No, not really." She chanced a brief look in his direction. "Christmas used to be happy, I don't really know when it stopped."

  
  


"I don't think it ever was," Snape commented indistinctly.

  
  


"What do you mean?" 

  
  


He winced. "Well . . . Christmas is a time for family, of course." he began, but he didn't have to finish because she understood immediately. 

  
  


"Your family aren't the greatest people, I suppose?" she ventured. 

  
  


"You could say that." he admitted bitterly, then thinking better of what he was telling her. Their conversation was heading down a rather personal road, and he thought it was time to stop before it was too late. "I think that's enough soul searching, Miss Rienne, unless there is anything else plaguing you about my identity." he tried to end the dialogue. 

  
  


She almost laughed at his attempts to sound rude. "But I've told you everything about me!" She joked. 

  
  


"Hardly everything," he sneered, but kept his voice civil. "Fine, what else are you wanting to ask me?"

  
  


She thought for a moment, then decided on one last question. "Well, in the past hour or so, I've learned where you grew up, that you had three brothers, and that you left home when you were fifteen," she counted the revelations off on her fingers. "Since you won't tell me who those strange people were, I can only think of one more thing I want to know." She hesitated. 

  
  


"What's your middle name, Professor?" 

  
  


He nearly laughed, but caught himself just in time to secure the unpleasant scowl on his face. He had been nerving himself up for a probing sort of question, but was relieved to hear her childish query.

  
  


"Anthony Gordon." he said quickly. 

  
  


"So that's why you're less than fond of your parents." She realized, unable to keep a strait face. "They named you Severus Anthony Gordon Snape!"

  
  


"Indeed." He replied scathingly. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and deftly transfigured it into a quilt, throwing it over his legs. 

  
  


Her eyes were getting heavy, and she struggled to keep them open. She too had enjoyed the long conversation with her teacher, and felt much better to have gotten everything, or almost everything, off her chest. She had told him about the suggestion of rehabilitation, but not the reason. She mentioned the kiss with Randy, but refused to use his name, and only vaguely hinted at her fear of Brandon. She felt that he had understood much more than she had actually said, though. 

  
  


She yawned, and fell asleep in an instant. Severus rewarded her sleeping form with a rare, small smile and blanketed her lithe body with his quilt, making sure her feet were covered. He sat down again, waiting for the pessimistic thoughts to creep into his sanity, but they never came. He fell asleep too, for once undisturbed by the revolting nightmares he usually had to endure. 

  
  
  
  


****************************

  
  
  
  


Very few times in the life of Viola Rienne had she been called upon to make herself look presentable, but for Christmas Dinner at Hogwarts, she had vowed to overcome all obstacles and become as beautiful as possible. 

  
  


Wearing light green dress robes with long, flared sleeves, an empire waistline and intricate embroidery around the neckline, she lightly resembled an angel. She attempted a lengthening charm on her light blond hair, and had succeeded in growing it down to her shoulders. For once is was brushed, and part of it was swept back into a loose braid, with snowdrop flowers poked into the tresses. 

  
  


The only thing that betrayed her real identity was her footwear, or lack thereof. It had been years since she had actually bought a new pair of shoes, and those had hardly been formal. So instead, she made her way down the dungeon hallways barefoot, innocently enjoying the padding sounds her feet made on the cold stone.

  
  


She and Snape had arrived at Hogsmeade in the early hours of the morning. She had barely woken up as he lead her off the train, and into a carriage that seemed to be waiting for him at the station. Had she been in a more lucid state of mind, she would have been suspicious to the convenience of the whole situation, but instead she sat through it in a haze, sleeping for several more hours, alone in her dormitory, upon their arrival to the castle. 

  
  


Feeling fully refreshed, and after sneaking into the Potions classroom to make and drink a healing draught she felt ready to face the world, or at least the faculty of Hogwarts, up in the Great Hall. 

  
  


She met Snape at the first staircase leading upwards. He too had pulled himself together, and at the request of Dumbledore he looked magnificent. His usually oily hair gleamed, and was pulled back from his aristocratic features into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. He had abandoned the severe black apparel and was now in dark green dress robes, with silver clasps and a white cravat done up at his throat. 

  
  


Snape was also feeling much better than he had in a long time. After a quick meeting with Dumbledore to report the movements of Voldemort, he had returned to his private rooms and fallen asleep for the greater part of the day, dreaming strangely of his family. 

  
  


It must have been his talk with Viola that triggered it, since he hadn't thought of his family for years. The dream was odd, in black and white, and didn't turn into a nightmare until the very end, when he saw all of them, parents and brothers and live-in grandmother, bound and slaughtered, like the Dark Lord's victims had been the day before at the Riddle House. He had woken up, clawing at his eyes in panic, just in time to get ready for the feast, and as he dressed the dream slipped from his mind, leaving him with a lighthearted sort of mood. 

  
  


"Good evening, Viola," he nodded courteously to her, discreetly looking her up and down, admiring her choice of attire. Viola was at a loss for words, and so only nodded back at him. 

  
  


The evening promised to be rather interesting, and they headed in the direction of the Great Hall together. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


****************************

  
  


Man that chapter sucked. I'm sorry. I should rewrite it, but we must go forward, Always forward!! Now click that little button down there and tell me about your day in the form of a review, but refrain from telling me how much this chapter blew. I know that already. But please review. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. and things heat up after dinner!

I can't wait for The Philosopher's Stone to come out!!! I'm gonna buy the DVD as soon as possible then it's an all night Harry Potterthon in Jeni's basement and everyone has to come!! There will be punch and pie!! Lol . . .

  
  


Welcome to chapter 8, and yes, this is THE chapter for Viola and Sevvie. You want togetherness, here comes the Scintillating Togetherness Fairy with her magical wand to bring two people together. Bear in mind, though, that they cannot shag just yet. 

  
  


I've been forgetting to add disclaimers. Forgive a simple writer, I don't own any of the stuff from Harry Potter, I pretty much just own Viola and her fucked up friends. And pardon the lengthy description of the food. I'm a Redwall fan, and it shows through from time to time. 

  
  
  
  


Chapter 8

  
  
  
  


The Great Hall was glorious and breathtaking, bathed in golden light from a thousand floating candles and decorated artistically for Christmas. Dozens of huge trees stood in the corners, decorated with strings of glittering icicles and coloured candles, tiny gold and silver owls and fluttering fairies. 

  
  


The room was pleasantly warm, but snowflakes swirled down from the enchanted ceiling, which was dark blue like the sky outside. The snow blew around in some unfelt wind, lying in drifts against the walls and the bottoms of the trees. 

  
  


In the centre of the huge, resplendent Hall a table set for fifteen stood, and over in a small glade formed by some smaller Christmas trees was a grand piano, it's top covered in holly boughs. Albus Dumbledore was sitting at the piano, his head bent in concentration as he played. His crimson dressing robes reflected the strange, ethereal light, and he appeared to be sparkling. 

  
  


Viola had never spent Christmas at school until now, and she deeply regretted her reluctance to stay for the holidays all those past years. Just being able to stand in such a lovely place would be worth the extra two weeks away from home. 

  
  


Dumbledore looked up from his playing as Viola entered with Snape. He smiled and got up to greet them, beaming at Severus and lightly kissing Viola's hand, his eyes twinkling merrily at her. 

  
  


"How nice to have you back with us for Christmas," he told her. "Such a shame the circumstances that brought you here weren't pleasant." 

  
  


She was amazed at how much the old man knew. She had a feeling that the day he ever had to be told something about one of his students, the world would end. 

  
  


"I'd rather be here than anywhere else, Headmaster," she smiled back at him. 

  
  


Dumbledore caught Snape's arm as he tried to move past them to the table. "Why don't you play something, Severus?" he suggested. Snape rolled his eyes, but headed in the direction of the piano anyway. Dumbledore turned again to Viola, "Come, my dear, and grace a crotchety old man with your presence."

The other faculty members who had stayed for the holidays were taking their seats, along with the other four students that were unable or unwilling to go home, for whatever reasons. Viola sat next to Dumbledore, and a seat was left empty on her other side, presumably for Snape, who was rooting through the sheet music that was left by the piano. 

  
  


"Oh come on, Severus," laughed Professor Vector, who looked very lovely indeed in deep blue robes. "You know all the best ones by heart."

  
  


He shot her a poisonous look, tossing the sheafs of parchment onto the piano and sitting down with a flourish. Viola leaned forward in her seat, watching him closely as he launched beautifully into Brahm's Lullaby.

  
  


"He's amazing," McGonnagal shook her head in astonishment, a wine glass held loosely in her hand. Viola was inclined to concur with her assessment. Snape did play remarkably. His eyes closed and neck slightly bent, he played as if he had written the song himself. Though she couldn't see, she could picture his hands roving over the ivory keyboard, slender, agile fingers seeking every note with lightening quick deliberation. 

  
  


A stray lock of hair came loose from his ponytail, draped over his face. He tossed his head deftly to get rid of it. He's beautiful, Viola thought as he did this. She noticed his mouth, half open and sensual. In his attentiveness, he bit his lower lip slightly and Viola's pulse quickened. 

  
  


He finished playing before she was finished watching him, and she had to jerk her eyes away as he looked up and caught her gaze. 

  
  


"That was wonderful, Severus," complimented Madam Pomfrey. 

  
  


"Thank you Poppy," nodded in her direction and took his seat at the table next to Viola. She gave him a small smile as he sat, but it went mostly unreturned. Only a small tug at the corner of his mouth suggested that he had even noticed her. 

  
  


First came the crackers, which went off around the table in several small explosions, distributing hats and toys onto the plates of the diners. Then, the dishes in front of them filled with some of the best smelling food Viola had ever encountered. The elves in the kitchen had certainly outdone themselves. 

  
  


At the centre of the table there lay a gigantic turkey, surrounded by huge dishes of stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy and cranberry sauce. Several bottles of wine were uncorked around bowls of fresh garden salad and steaming stir fry. There was escargot and calamari, steamed vegetables and candied fruit. Small candy dishes were overflowing with mint humbugs and every flavour beans, and there was a tray full of freshly baked bread. Viola had never seen such a glorious Christmas Dinner in her entire life. 

  
  


It was impossible to worry about anything at that table. There was an overwhelming feeling of peace in the Great Hall, a welcoming embrace to entice the soul, to drive all negativity away with the smell of the food. Viola piled her plate high with a bit of whatever she could reach, adding a handful of Every Flavour Beans to the table cloth beside her dish. 

  
  


At first, she just ate. She was a bit shy about contributing to the conversation in front of so many of her teachers, and instead only listened to them uncertainly. 

  
  


"Why so silent?" Dumbledore turned his attention away from whatever he had been talking about with professor Flitwick to address her. 

  
  


"Just thinking, Headmaster," she replied quickly. Thinking, that's funny, Viola. She scoffed at herself mentally. You were watching Snape pour gravy on his turkey.

  
  


"The ponytail does suit him, doesn't it?" the old man asked amiably, drinking from his goblet to hide his grin. Viola blushed and looked down at her plate. Dumbledore was teasing her! She was almost embarrassed, but got over her qualms quickly, finally joining in the spirited conversation upon the realization that they were talking about Quidditch. She was surprised that her usually sombre teachers were so enthusiastic about the sport, which was definitely something she could identify with, having been a beater on the Hufflepuff team for four years. 

  
  


Little Professor Flitwick was arguing good-humouredly with Professor Trelawny, who was insisting that she had seen the downfall of the Canadian Quidditch team in the next World Cup Series. Apparently, the tiny professor disagreed with his glittering colleague, and was telling her so in a very persuasive manner.

  
  


Viola happened to agree with Flitwick, and told him so, earning a bright smile from the miniature man. The dinner progressed wonderfully from that point. Later, the dishes dissolved into enormous bowls of trifle and pudding, ice cream and fruit salad. 

It seemed like only a minute later when it was time to leave. It was well past midnight, and people were beginning to retire to their private quarters for some sleep. Once outside the Great Hall Viola noticed that there was a storm outside. The raging wind was rattling the huge doors and windows of the Entrance Hall. She shivered slightly, and made her way down to the dungeons, trying to hurry as the floor was deathly cold on her bare feet. 

  
  


After she had descended the first flight of stairs, she heard the sound of Snape's heavy leather boots pounding on the stone floor behind her. Unconsciously, she slowed her pace a bit, to allow him some time to catch up to her in the corridor. 

  
  


He was in a bit of a hurry, and nearly collided with her as he rounded the next corner. 

  
  


"Evening, Professor," she greeted him brightly. 

  
  


"Hello, Viola," he returned cordially. He looked tired, and had hardly stopped to glance at her before starting again on his way to his rooms. Viola managed to keep pace with him without much difficulty, some inner part of her thanking the gods that the Slytherin Common Room was roughly in the same direction as the Potions Master's domicile. 

  
  


The silence wasn't awkward, surprisingly. She felt unbelievably mellow after all that food, and the turkey had made her nicely fatigued, and she didn't mind not saying anything. They just walked, side by side for the most part, until Viola couldn't keep up her facade of dignified beauty any longer and did something incredibly stupid. 

  
  


The lengthening charm had finally worn off and her hair shrunk rapidly back to it's normal length, the little white flowers falling out and fluttering to the floor. As she bent slightly to try and catch them, she forgot to hold onto the skirt of her dress, which was too long by a few inches. She accidentally stepped on the hem of the gown and as she straitened up, it ripped. The high waistline tore loudly, revealing quite a bit of skin from just below her breasts to her naval. 

  
  


"Shit!" she cursed, forgetting that there was a teacher present. She clutched at the torn threads, trying to cover her stomach and save as much of her dignity as possible, but her attempts were shattered by Snape, who was laughing at her. 

  
  


In all the years that he had taught her, she had never before heard him laugh. Never even really seen him smiling, for that matter. His laugh was surprisingly pleasant, hearty and deep. It reverberated inside and around her, running chills down her spine. It only took a second for her to smile too, laughing quietly at her own idiocy. 

  
  


Snape pulled his wand out of his wide sleeve, still sort of chuckling to himself. "Allow me," he asked permission before grazing the tip of the wand lightly under her breasts, along the ripped seam, repairing it effortlessly. 

  
  


He moved the wand slowly, stitching carefully. He had moved closer, until they were only inches apart. Viola had her back to the wall, and inclined her head against the smooth stone to look up at him. He was otherwise occupied with her seams, and didn't notice that her eyes were devouring him. 

  
  


Unfortunately for poor Severus, the tear in the dress was terribly close to the curves of her chest, and it was horrendously distracting. Finishing his task as quickly as possible, he was treated to a rather pleasant view of what lay under her decolletage. Being tall had it's advantages, he realized, enticed by the curvatures of her smooth skin, but being a man had it's definite down sides. His body reacted forcefully to her presence, and suddenly he felt like he had to touch her, to see how soft her skin really was.

  
  


He slipped his wand back up his sleeve without stepping back from her. His spicy scent was pummelling her, his coal black eyes burning through her so that she couldn't possibly look away. He barely dared to even blink, in case she disappeared. His hand came up slowly, almost shaking, and touched her face. Her pulse quickened as he traced a burning trail down her cheek and jaw, down her neck and the side of her breast. The graceful hand came to rest on her hip, caressing her through the silk of her garment. 

  
  


Something in the back of his mind was screaming at him to stop, to move away, to just fucking say no, but he couldn't. He pushed his conscience away, and covered her lovely mouth with his own. 

  
  


Her hands touched his chest, not to push him away, but to grip his robes and pull him closer. His lips parted slightly in a quiet gasp of surprise, and she in turn opened to him, allowing him to kiss her deeper, to explore her mouth with his tongue. He had expected her to pull away, to hit him, or even scream. Any of those options would have made it so much easier to pull away, but now it was impossible to stop. 

  
  


Her hands crept up from his chest to his face, lightly touching his cheeks and then tangling her fingers in his hair, unintentionally freeing it from the ponytail. Black locks cascaded over his shoulders like a wave of velvet. 

  
  


He was so close now that he could faintly feel her heart pounding through the fabric of their clothing, of which there was suddenly far to much. His thigh pushed between her legs, and the incredible pressure building there drew a moan from her throat into his mouth, which was harrowing hers with a raw sort of hunger. He savoured her sound of pleasure, and realized just how much he wanted to hear her like that, moaning his name in ecstasy, imploring him to take her. 

  
  


It was bliss, to be kissing him. Viola had never really understood how intense a kiss could be, and she never wanted this to end. His hands kneaded her hips and waist, and she could feel his arousal pressed hard against her. It scared and excited her at the same time. 

  
  


In a second, though, it was over. He forced himself to open his eyes and look at her, his student, her lips red from the force of his desire, her clothes wrinkled where his hands had grasped the fabric. 

  
  


Viola's stomach twisted into a knot under his unreadable stare. Slowly, he removed both his hands from her waist and stepped away from her, before turning and rushing down the hallway to his rooms, leaving her standing against a wall, flushed and breathing ragged. It took her a minute or two to calm down, and as her breathing became normal she started to feel a bit cold. with slow, deliberate movements she made her way into the Slytherin Dormitories, to get into her nightclothes. 

  
  


He slammed the door behind him, locking it carefully out of habit. He was burning with shame and rage at himself. How could he have been so stupid as to kiss a student? His hands were shaking unbearably as he sank into one of the armchairs by the empty fireplace, head hung in humiliation. 

  
  
  
  


You're dead, Severus. He thought bitterly. She'll scream rape and Dumbledore will fire you. Never in his life had he ever felt so guilty, despite all the vile things he had ever done, this was the worst. Simply because he enjoyed it so much. 

  
  


Oh yes, he had enjoyed it. He would have loved to kiss her forever, to touch her, to bury himself deep inside her warmth and make love to her until she screamed out his name in rapture. He was utterly disgusted with his loss of control, as it had never happened before. He had always told himself that no matter what he had done under the orders of Voldemort, he wasn't like the others. He wasn't some dirty rapist who took it upon themselves to ravage young girls.

  
  


He had always told himself that he was decent. Dumbledore had always told him the same thing, but what would the old man think now? Did decent men always go around kissing the Head Girl? He laughed resentfully at himself, wondering nervously what was going to be done, what she was going to do about his breech in ordinance. 

  
  


His worries were pointless, though, because at that moment Viola wasn't planning on telling anyone. At that moment, she was laying in her bed, the covers pulled up to her chin, staring at the canopy of the four poster. She was lightly tracing the curve of her lower lip with a finger. Her mouth was still a bit swollen, but she couldn't care less. 

  
  


Somehow, no matter how many times she kissed Brandon, he had never made it feel that way, except . . . the first time. And yet . . . hadn't she been thinking about Snape then too? She shivered despite the warmth of the bed and the lingering heat his body had left on her. 

  
  


She shut her eyes tight and grinned, fighting the laughter that was threatening to burst out of her. She remembered that she was alone in the dormitory, and allowed herself a hearty laugh, unworried of anyone hearing. 

  
  


Gwenny's not gonna believe this! She thought to herself, all of a sudden unable to stop giggling. Of course, she would have to tell Gwendolen, because it was her who made Viola see Snape as something other than the evil Potions Master.

  
  


Oh, what would Brandon say? She laughed harder, doubling up in bed, tears streaking her face. What would Randy say? More snickering. 

  
  


She kicked the blankets off her, heaving herself out of bed to splash some water onto her face, feeling better then she had since leaving home. 

  
  
  
  


**************************

  
  


A bit short, I know, but it was the one you were waiting for, wasn't it?? Just wait till the bed scene! By the way, the Leafs have to win their next two games to take the series with Carolina, so everyone cheer them on! The game they played yesterday was fantastic! 

  
  
  
  


To Nevyn, thanks for the compliments, but I couldn't ask you to waste your time proofreading my crappy story, I'll just be more careful with my spelling :)

  
  


To Parslemouth, were they together enough for you? :)

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	9. as the holidays draw to an end

  
  
  
  
  
  


Chapter 9

  
  


Severus Snape woke up on Boxing Day with the joyous knowledge that he would not have to get out of bed for a couple more hours. He wrapped the blankets more tightly around himself, eyes grimly kept shut, trying to hold on to those precious few seconds between sleep and waking where you just don't know why you don't want to wake up in the first place. 

  
  


He couldn't go back to sleep, and his mind had enough time to separate his dreams from the actual reality of the night before. He groaned and rolled over in bed, succeeding in getting thoroughly tangled in the sheets. 

  
  


Finally, he opened his eyes, but they were covered by a tangled mess of black hair. He cursed inwardly, tumbled out of bed and made his miserable way to the bathroom.

  
  


Standing under the hot water of the shower, he wondered what exactly was going to happen. Would Dumbledore throw him out? No. He was sure of that now, Dumbledore was always so understanding, if he could have stood there and not blast Snape to a million pieces after he had confessed to being a Death Eater, then surely this wouldn't cost him his job. 

  
  


A sudden thought occurred to him. Hadn't she kissed him back? He was sure that she had . . . touched him. Touched his hair, moaned against his lips. Hadn't she been staring at him all through dinner as well? 

  
  


That doesn't matter, he told himself. It wouldn't have even mattered if she had been the one to kiss you. Fact is, you were all over a student in the hallway. 

  
  


He shook some water out of his eyes and started to lather up, scrubbing a lot harder than necessary until his skin was a bit reddish. The hot water was starting to burn, but he ignored it and scoured his flesh, trying to remove the guilt with physical pain.

  
  


The school was uncharacteristically quiet that morning, and Viola took advantage of the peace to retreat to the Head Girl's Bathroom. Her Christmas presents had arrived that morning at breakfast, forwarded to the school by Randy when he realized that she had disappeared from the building. Attached to the sack of gifts was a note from him, with a quick apology and his concerns for her well being. He had sent her a couple grams of marijuana as well, and she sat on the sill of the tall window smoking some of it, listening to Sublime and finding it harder and harder to concentrate on what she had gone there to think about.

  
  


Randy. She had been thinking about Randy. That was right, wasn't it? No, she had been thinking about Snape. Severus Anthony Gordon Snape. Her mind tripped over the words slightly, but she forced herself to focus nonetheless. 

  
  


Gods, you're stoned Vi, She giggled to herself, and decided that she was cut off for the rest of the day. Randy had always saved his best weed for her. What a sweetheart. The stone walls appeared to be moving ever so slightly, which gave her the distinct impression that the weed was dusted with something much, much better. 

  
  


She carefully put the drugs away, vowing not to have any more. She languidly got undressed, jumped into the tub and relaxed in the hot water to think about . . . Snape. Right. 

  
  


Instead though, she found herself picturing Brandon. Pretty Brandon, but scary Brandon. Oh, he wouldn't be happy if he found out about what happened, with Randy or with Snape. No, he'd probably be really angry.

  
  


A warm shiver reverberated through her body as she remembered the moment when Snape had kissed her in the hallway. She wondered if he was going to get into any trouble over that. That thought sobered her slightly, and she firmly decided that she would definitely not tell anyone. Not even Gwenny, as hard as that would be. She knew that something bad would happen if anyone found out. It was like some nagging sensation in the back of her mind, almost like deja vu for some reason, like someone had told her before that there would be conflict here. She was too stoned to remember when, though. 

  
  
  
  


**************************

  
  


The Carter House was a mile or two outside of London, wedged into the countryside for over a hundred years. All covered in snow, it looked like a castle out of a storybook. It wasn't an especially large home, but big enough to house a large family and servants. 

  
  


The beauty of the winter morning was lost completely on Brandon, who was brooding in his room. In the corner of the vast bedroom stood a broomstick, a Firebolt, given generously by a rather fond uncle, but Brandon wasn't interested in the gift. Being born to a wealthy wizard family always meant the best of everything, but it was starting to bore the young man. He could only think of one thing. 

  
  


Viola. Always Viola. 

  
  


The boy was worried about another thing, as well. His father had come home Christmas eve in a terrible state, shaking and cringing and muttering to himself. Brandon's mother had tried to console him, but it was no use. The man hadn't gotten out of bed since then. 

  
  


Brandon shivered at the thought. As much as he was looking forward to his initiation, he was beginning to feel nervousness tug at his insides at the knowledge of what he was going to be facing, not from the enemies of the Dark Lord, but from Voldemort himself. 

  
  


Brandon had been brought up knowing that his father was a Death Eater, and his parents had made it seem, to an impressionable child, that his father's loyalties lied in the correct place. Brandon had never questioned his father's morality, and therefore had inherited it. 

  
  


But there was still Viola. He still didn't understand what it was about her that made him need her so badly. He knew she was muggle born, and it disgusted him that he could fall in love with something so filthy, but it couldn't be helped. 

  
  


It was infuriating, really, how great she was. No matter what wrong she could possibly do, all the drugs, rule breaking, any sins of any sort, she was still so pure and good. Where that virtuousness could have been a lifeline to someone like Brandon, destined to serve evil for the rest of his life, it was like a motivation to destroy it. He knew that he had lost the childlike innocence that she possessed when he was young, and could never touch it again, and the fact that he knew her innocence would never leave made him angry. 

  
  


He wanted her so badly, and it was vile. Sometimes it took all his willpower to not just take that lovely neck between his hands and destroy her, just so he wouldn't have to feel the guilt of loving a mudblood. It ate away at his mind, until all he cold see was her sparkling brown eyes. His raw desire, his unforgivable sin. So innocent. Gods, he needed that. He wanted her innocence. 

  
  


He would take it. 

  
  
  
  


**********************

  
  


Strange, really, how one thing can lead to another, so quickly sometimes that it feels like the end result was exactly what Severus was going for in the first place. He had just wanted a word with Lupin, really, not to be dragged into the unbearable purgatory of 'a few drinks with the guys.'

  
  


Despite his hatred of Sirius Black and James Potter, Snape had never really had a problem getting along with Remus Lupin. The two men were far from being friends, but they frequently found contentment in each other's company when it became impossible to pace one's office any longer. 

  
  


What had started as idle conversation with the intent of getting Snape's mind of his upcoming punishment for indiscretion had alarmingly grew into a boxing day celebration, complete with Jack Daniel's, uproar, the entire male faculty of Hogwarts and a good many residents of Hogsmeade. 

  
  


The pub was crowded, noisy, and very, very annoying to poor Severus. His head was pounding already, as if the drinks he had consumed had skipped intoxicating him and got right onto the hangover. 

  
  


Remus was sitting across from his at their table, looking sympathetic. The werewolf appeared terribly fatigued, with limp greying hair and drooping eyes. The recent full moon had taken it's usual toll on the man, and Severus inwardly reminded himself to try and develop a version of wolfsbane with less inhibiting side-affects. 

Remus made a tired smile. "What's bothering you, Severus?" 

  
  


Snape looked sour, sipping reflectively at his drink. "Nothing I want to talk about with you."

  
  


Remus laughed, and the gesture took years off his face. "Didn't Father Christmas bring you anything good?" 

  
  


"You have no idea." he replied harshly. 

  
  


Remus was intrigued. "Oh? No details for your old friend?" 

  
  


He sneered. "Of course not. Not here, anyway."

  
  


A flicker of understanding crossed over Lupin's eyes, but then he looked confused again. He didn't press for any more information, however. He just sat back, sipping his drink and looking speculative.

  
  


"Let's go outside then." he suggested. 

  
  


Severus gave him a dirty look. "Fine." 

  
  


The weather had calmed down a bit, but the cold still bit through Lupin's tattered robes as if he weren't wearing anything. He hugged himself tightly, watching Severus in disbelief because he seemed so unaffected, standing uncompromising and unmoving, leaning against the window of the pub. 

  
  


"I haven't seen you like this before, Severus." Remus looked concerned. "What's going on?"

  
  


"I think . . ." Lupin had never heard the Potions Master at a loss for words. "I think I made a rather large mistake last night." 

  
  


The werewolf gave him a cold stare, so rare on his kind face. "Like what, Severus?"

  
  


"I, um, made an advance on someone I probably shouldn't have."

  
  


He understood right away. "Was this . . ." it was Lupin's turn to search for words. "This advance, was it unwelcome?"

  
  


Severus was silent for a moment. Finally, he spoke, and his voice was full of resignation. "It had to have been. It's me, Remus, there's no way it was welcome."

  
  


"Did she do anything?" 

  
  


Self consciously, Snape tucked his hair behind his ear. A flush crept up his face, tinging his cheekbones pink. 

  
  


Remus smiled. "So you kissed her, and she didn't do anything?"

  
  


He shook his head. "She . . ." more blushing. "She touched my hair."

  
  


The werewolf laughed, earning a glare form the very embarrassed Potions Master. "So, you kissed some girl, and she didn't scream, slap you, vomit or protest in any way. On the contrary, she touched your hair?"

  
  


"Yes, but - "

  
  


"But nothing." Remus was positively giggling now. "You left her standing there didn't you? Because you thought she would disapprove, even after she made no demonstration of aversion."

  
  


"Now you're just making me seem stupid." 

  
  


"You know Severus," Lupin placed a hand on the other man's shoulder. "I never understood, why you're the only person in the world who isn't allowed to be happy."

  
  


With a last, somewhat sad smile, Remus Lupin turned and went back into the pub, leaving Severus alone with his jumbled thoughts.

  
  
  
  


****************************

  
  
  
  


Dear Viola

  
  


Randy told me and Gwen what happened, are you alright? As if your parents did that to you, that's awful! I'm guessing you're at Hogwarts now, glad you made it there okay, the storm that night was pretty bad how did you manage to get there? Anyway, I hope you had a merry Christmas. By the way, make sure Brandon never finds out about what Randy tried with you, okay? I don't care how much you stick up for that guy, he's got a screw lose. 

  
  


Love Brianna, Dec 26th 

  
  
  
  


Dear Brianna

  
  


Yes, I'm at Hogwarts, safe and sound, I suppose. I did have a good Christmas, but strange. Sorry, but I can't tell you why, please don't ask. Did you like the gift I sent you? I love the one you sent me! And don't say that about Brandon. Really, he would never hurt anybody. 

  
  


Love Viola, Dec 28th Ps, tell Randy to send you some of the weed he sent me.

  
  
  
  


Dear Brandon, 

  
  


Hi, I just wanted to let you know that I'm at school now instead of at home, just in case you wanted to write me a letter. Thanks for the gift, they're beautiful, but my ears aren't pierced. I'll have to get it done in Hogsmeade later or something. 

  
  


See you in a week, 

Love Viola, Dec 28th 

  
  


My Dear Randy, 

  
  


Merry Christmas! Randy, have you noticed anything strange with Vi? I mean, besides all that crap with that asshole Brandon, but I mean just lately? Like how she suddenly appears at Hogwarts and WONT TELL US HOW SHE GOT THERE? It's just weird! I've never seen her act like this! I'm a bit worried, one of us should try to talk to Brandon, you know? None of us really knows him that well, and he'll probably know why she's acting like this. Maybe we're totally misinterpreting the entire thing?

  
  


Love Brianna, Jan 1st ps, send me some of that weed you sent Viola. 

  
  


Brandon Carter, 

  
  


Hey man, I hope you had a good holiday. I know I don't know you that well, but I'm a very good friend of Viola's. I was just wondering, well, actually, we were all wondering what's been going on with her lately. Do you know what I mean? She's been acting strange, almost depressed, ever since you two got together. 

  
  


Randy, Jan 2nd 

  
  
  
  


Randy, 

  
  


You're right, you don't know me that well. I don't know what you're implying, but I'm not doing anything to Viola. If she's depressed, it's because of something else, and I don't give a shit. Besides, I know you've had a little crush on my girlfriend for a while now, so I'm going to give you some honest advice: stay away from her. I'm sick of her running away from me to go and hang out with you and your friends, leave her alone. 

  
  


Brandon Carter, Jan 4th 

  
  
  
  


My Favourite Randy,

  
  


Hey, it's been a while since I've heard from you! School starts soon, so I guess I'll see you then, right? Gwen and Brianna are still begging me to tell them how I got to school on Christmas eve, funny eh? Anyway, just write back!

  
  


Love Viola, Jan 6th 

  
  
  
  


Randy?

  
  


Where are you man? I haven't heard from you in a while now, are you mad at me or something?

  
  


Love Viola, Jan 7th 

  
  
  
  


Dear Randy. 

  
  


Fine, be a child and give me your stupid silent treatment. I thought you could just forget about what happened in the store, but if you want to be a juvenile and stop talking to me, then go ahead. I'll miss you. 

  
  


Viola. 

  
  


******************************

  
  


Randy sat in his room, holding his last letter from his best friend in his hand, wanting desperately to tell her that he wasn't ignoring her letters. Brandon's threat was still strong in his mind, and he was afraid of what Carter was capable of. School would be starting in two days, and he would have to see her in the hallways, and during meals and in Divination class, and he wouldn't be able to talk to her. The worst part, he knew, would be seeing her with Brandon, just because he knew, now, that it was anything but a good relationship for Viola. 

  
  


******************************

  
  


For many reasons, Severus Snape was overjoyed to see the end of the holidays. He now had no time to visit his family, so the guilt about not doing so was finally gone. Another reason was the return of the students meant the return of the general chaos of Hogwarts, which would give Dumbledore more things to worry about then Snape's error. 

  
  


Strangely, the Headmaster seemed completely in the dark about the entire thing. Severus would have sworn that the old man just didn't know, but it seemed impossible. Albus Dumbledore knew everything that went on within his school and beyond, nothing escaped his wisdom. Except . . .

  
  


It seemed very unlikely that he would say nothing to Severus about kissing a student. It was strictly against the rules, very taboo and he would have most likely lost his job, or at least been suspended from teaching for a very long time. 

  
  


Pushing these worries into the back of his mind, Snape set himself to the task of preparing for his classes in the next morning. He meticulously carved ingredients, bottling and labelling, organizing his stores immaculately. 

  
  


He had not even glimpsed Viola since that bittersweet night, and he wasn't sure if he should be happy or sad about that fact. Part of him was disgusted that he had acted so primarily on his own lust, but another part of him, ruled by the Y chromosomes, was cheering that at least she hadn't rejected him. 

  
  


********************************

  
  


This was fun! I liked writing all the letters. I'd seen it done in a few other stories, and decided to try it . . . oh yeah, did you all like Brandon's perspective? I almost had him reciting those famous lines from Lolita, but then decided it would be better all around if I didn't. Around this time, I would usually be reporting on the Leafs progress in the playoffs, but you know what? The Leafs are dead to me. 

  
  


thank you for reviewing and reading, I love you all, really. I'm not just saying that. 

  
  


Jeni 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	10. Eve of Destruction

In a way, I'm glad that ff.net went into cardiac arrest for a while, or I probably would have posted this way before it was ready. This was insanely difficult to write, and I'm still not sure if I quite got it.

  
  
  
  


Chapter 10, Eve of Destruction

  
  
  
  


The start of the next term at Hogwarts brought a nasty shock for Viola. The disappointment she had felt when Randy stopped returning her letters was intensified, when on the first day back at school, he refused to even look at her. 

  
  


She couldn't understand what had made him so suddenly withdrawn. It was like a knife through her soul, to see her best friend turn so cold in her direction. To add to the hurt, Brianna and Gwendolen stuck with Randy, as if he needed to be consoled. Soon, Viola stopped trying, and by the time her eighteenth birthday came around, the only person she really talked to was Brandon. 

  
  


Somehow, what made it all worse was the fact that Snape hadn't so much as glanced in her direction since he had kissed her in the hallway. For some reason, she thought that she could have handled her best friends shunning her, but the idea of someone like Severus Snape was rejecting her completely was what made it unbearable. 

  
  


Sitting in Potions class had become some terrible torment she had to endure three times a week. He didn't ridicule her at all anymore, but he didn't do anything else, either. She became invisible in his class, and it bothered her deeply. She couldn't believe that he could have kissed her with so much enthusiasm and then continue to ignore her afterwards. She wasn't angry that he had kissed her, in a way she had been happy. It was like she had seen something about him that no one else even suspected. Like the night in the potions classroom, where he had whispered her name so seductively into her ear. That night in the hallway, she felt his soul. She felt a little privileged at the time, but now she suspected the entire school was trying to fuck with her mind. 

  
  


The nightmare of her lonely birthday wasn't nearly as bad as Randy's birthday, which came only two days later. The Hufflepuff table was a riot of noise and celebration on the fifteenth, and there was a gigantic cake with yellow icing, embellished with sparklers and glittering letters spelling out her friends name. 

  
  


No one in Slytherin had though to get her a cake. Not even Brandon, though he did get her a present. The morning of her birthday, he had appeared at her bedroom door with a large stuffed bear and a bunch of roses. It would have been a sweet gesture from anyone else, but it had given her a tangible feeling of trepidation. His smile, so beautiful and perfect, was fake. His eyes were cold. 

  
  


Severus Snape was on his last nerve. The start of term meant a lot more work for him, plus there was also the constant anxiety he could not shake. He kept expecting Dumbledore to end every conversation the two of them had with, "Oh yes, Severus, what's this about you violating a student?" 

  
  


It soon became clear, though, as the weeks went by, that it wasn't going to happen. Either the Headmaster had no idea, or he just wasn't going to do anything. In the meantime, Snape had chosen the same approach with Viola. 

  
  


Snubbing the girl did not seem to keep his mind off her, but he didn't know what else to do. He still felt a wrench in his heart, and in his groin, when he looked at her, remembering the feeling of her body pressed against him. Ignoring her completely, however, seemed to be the only solution. It wasn't as if they were lovers now, or even friends. They were still teacher and student above all. If there was going to be no repercussions, nothing had to change. 

  
  


The mark on his arm had been tingling lately, not quite hurting yet, but enough to be annoying. Once or twice he wondered if the feeling was all in his head, but he knew it couldn't be. Voldemort was going to call him soon. He was hardly prepared. 

  
  


Now, though, he was relaxed. He was in his private rooms, stretched out on his couch with a muggle novel in his hands. It was a Saturday afternoon, and he didn't have to worry about classes, detentions or meals in the Great Hall. The school was strangely empty, most of the students cavorting around Hogsmeade, and quiet. He was just starting to fall asleep like that, when his arm was set suddenly on fire with pain. 

  
  


He was too surprised to hold back his scream, and it tore out of his throat, echoing ominously around the dungeon hallways. He tried to lift himself up into a sitting position, but his arm wouldn't support any of his weight. He rolled off the couch and fell onto the floor.

  
  


Another agonized cry ripped out of him, despite his desperate attempts to keep quiet. His rooms weren't that far from the common room, and the younger students there could probably hear everything. They were most likely listening, guessing, speculating . . .

  
  


He had to leave. 

  
  


Gasping, he heaved himself up and threw a pinch of floo powder into the fire, then pushed through, groaning, "The Riddle House!" as he did so. 

  
  
  
  


****************************

  
  
  
  


Viola hadn't felt much like visiting the village. Brandon had wanted to, though, so she was left alone in the common room, uncomfortably enduring a very tense sort of muteness with Alison Nott. 

  
  


The strange girl was not much for conversation, apparently. Viola tried vainly to talk to her, but all she could get out of her was strange, stuttered monosyllables. Finally, she gave up and just sat miserably in the oppressive silence. 

  
  


After a few minutes of sitting under the gaze of Alison's intelligent, unblinking eyes Viola wanted to scream. Thankfully the door to the common room swung open, allowing someone inside. 

  
  


She didn't care who it was, as long as she would not have to be alone with the painfully weird girl beside her. The person who entered, however was not much better. It was Brandon, and he had been looking for her. 

  
  


"Hey," she said, her voice slightly hollow. She didn't really want to talk to him either. 

  
  


"Hey babe, let's go." thankfully, she rose from her seat and followed him out of the common room, on the way to the dormitories. They left Alison Nott sitting by the fire, her face hidden by her dank, stringy hair. 

  
  
  
  


Viola shuddered, but kept her thoughts carefully on other things. Slytherin house was becoming impossible to live in, she supposed. While her mind was swirling around depressing little sentiments, she had stopped paying attention to her surroundings. Brandon had led her by the hand all the way to his dormitory, and was pushing open the door and gesturing for her to go inside. 

  
  


She entered the room with a bit of apprehension, she had never seen the boy's dorm before. The room was larger than hers, with six four-poster beds, a large bookshelf and two chairs by the fireplace. On the wall, a painting was hung of a rough looking centaur, swinging a club menacingly. The room was otherwise empty, all the seventh year boys were still in Hogsmeade. 

  
  


Without a word, Brandon moved away from her and sat down on a bed, presumably his. He looked at her pointedly, then when she didn't move, he gestured her over to him. 

  
  


She slowly approached the bed, taking a seat by his pillow. She hated how quiet the dungeons were, with no windows to hear the birds or weather. It made for a lot of awkward silences. 

  
  


He slanted towards her and kissed her, so softly she could hardly feel it. He leaned forward, pressing harder against her lips, causing her to lean back from him slightly. Their arms wrapped about each other, he pushed her back until her head came to rest on his pillow.

  
  


A knot twisted briefly in her stomach, and she had a distinct impression that something was desperately wrong, and she couldn't do a thing about it. 

  
  


He leaned more of his weight onto her, kissing her neck and rubbing her hips. It was only when his hands moved under her shirt to tease the lace of her bra that she realized just what was going on. They were on a bed together, and Brandon definitely had more on his mind than just kissing. 

  
  


She squirmed underneath him. "Brandon, stop."

  
  


He sat up immediately, straddling her legs. "What?"

  
  


She thought quickly. "Don't you think this is a little bit . . . sudden?" she asked, and when he raised a sceptical eyebrow, she added, "I'm not sure if I'm ready for this sort of thing." it sounded corny and halfhearted, more like the excuse it was than the explanation she had meant it to be.

  
  


His eyes narrowed. He looked angry. 

  
  


Before she could say anything to calm him down, he pulled his wand out of his sleeve and pointed it at her. She shut her eyes tight, expecting a curse, but instead thin cords snaked out of the tip of the wand, coiling around her wrists. 

  
  


The expression on Brandon's face didn't change once as he magically bound her to his bed and drew the curtains shut around them. Viola's, however, went from fear, to blinding anger, to grim, reluctant acceptance. 

  
  


He wanted to wipe that look off her face. 

  
  


Instead, he kissed her. Because he loved her. He didn't notice how much she trembled at his touch, and even if he had, he wouldn't have cared.

  
  


He kissed her neck. The ropes strained as she tried to break free. 

  
  


He touched her hair and face. A sob escaped from her throat. 

  
  


He pulled her shirt up slightly to kiss her abdomen, the muscles there were quivering. Viola was beginning to tense up, to panic. His gentle caresses felt like scourging lashes from a whip. 

  
  


His mouth moved past her navel, to the button of her jeans. Her breath caught in her throat while he eased the button undone and lowered the zipper, revealing a glimpse of her panties. He tried to remove the jeans entirely, but she had firmly crossed her legs underneath him. She looked strait at his face and shook her head. 

  
  


Before she could even blink, he was swinging his fist in a wide arc, the blow connecting with a dull thud on the side of her face. Viola was unconscious.

  
  
  
  


********************************

  
  
  
  


Snape was the last one to arrive at the house, and a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach told him that he was going to pay for it. The others were already in their masks, and the Potions Master had to make a rather undignified scramble to get his vestments on correctly. 

  
  


Thankfully, now it was over. It was late, and he had made it back to the school in one piece. Bruised and lacerated, but still in one pitiful piece. 

  
  


Locked in his office, he allowed himself to relax for a minute, letting the tension roll off his shoulders like waves of boiling lava. After a moment of silent repose he was preparing to make a healing potion, but before he could do anything he had fallen asleep at his desk, his head in his arms like a student sleeping in class. 

  
  


The slumber was not pleasant for Severus, he was having nightmares from the second he closed his eyes. He was too exhausted to wake, though, and had to endure the horror until his body would allow him to stop. 

  
  


The meeting had been rough, to say the least. Voldemort's moods were notoriously erratic, but that evening had been something far different from usual. As predicted before, the Dementors were controlled by the Death Eaters, and were guarding the entrance to the large Hall in the Riddle Manor where the supporters were gathered. 

  
  


Their presence drowned the room with a substantial feeling of cold despair, and Severus found himself recounting some old events in his life that he thought he had forgotten. 

  
  


The Dark Lord had made strange demands of them, like lists of the graduating Hogwarts students and their parentage, and he had even asked Snape for the blue prints for the school, a demand which could absolutely never be met.

  
  


"It's impossible, Lord." He had explained. Obviously fateful words, because they had almost caused his death.

  
  


"Crucio." The cold, high pitched voice was the sound of fatality.

  
  


He was writhing on the ground, bathed in vile red light from Voldemort's wand and in absolute, killing agony. Severus almost died at that moment, screaming like a banshee at the Demon's feet.

  
  


He was no stranger to physical pain, of course. Contrary to that, he knew it quite well. He could have handled it if the Dementors hadn't been there, but they had closed in on him, inhaling the emotions that poured out of him, all the anguish, desperation and hatred. He was like a feast set before them, overflowing with fervent sentiments for them to greedily devour. 

  
  


By the time they had finished, and Voldemort had moved on to other things, finally allowing the pain to end, Severus was spent. His limbs were numb and he couldn't move. His cheek rested against the cool stone of the floor, and terrified sobs racked his narrow frame. The Dementors, though, never left him. They closed into a tight circle, their rotten looking hands reached out to caress him. He shuddered at their touch, fighting the urge to be violently sick.

  
  


He couldn't take their presences any longer, and with a final agonized moan he lay down on the floor and allowed himself to be swept up in merciful unconsciousness. The images they were conjuring in his mind were frightening, detailed and real. 

  
  


They shattered him, twisted his soul until he was broken and pathetic. They took every pleasant thought and memory from his mind, rare as they were, and destroyed them in front of his eyes. 

  
  


He could hear screams, ghostly and transparent, hidden behind the folds of his thoughts. They were the screams of his victims, those people he had watched die. Throughout his entire adult life, he had kept sane knowing only that he had never taken a life, but gods, he had watched. 

  
  


The guilt was suddenly staggering. They were crying at him, begging him to save them like they did while he stood in the shadows, observing others do the killing he couldn't stomach. 

  
  


When they finally left him, he was shaking like a beaten child in his unconsciousness. 

  
  
  
  


*************************

  
  


The nightmares came and went in an uncertain haze. Images appeared, enticing and confusing her at the same time. She saw Randy, driving away from her on his father's Harley Davidson, the one he had never learned to ride. She was standing in her bedroom, facing the blue walls with a paintbrush in one hand and a bucket of paint in the other. She dipped the brush and coloured a wide swath of red on the wall, before the whole scene crumbled aside in a distorted jumble of emotions and sensations. Severus Snape was holding her, kissing her like he wanted nothing else in the world, and she could see the dense sadness in his eyes, the despair that she often saw in her own. He was wearing a mask, empty and faceless. Tears streaked his concealed cheeks, but they were red like blood and so hot they burned. He turned suddenly, pushing her from the warmth of his body and punched Brandon Carter in the face. The whole stage infused into a crystal ball, rolling onto the floor of the Divination classroom, where Sybil Trelawney was predicting death from behind a black veil. 

  
  


Viola woke up, and in an instant wished that she hadn't.

  
  


She was still on the bed, in the dark except for a small candle glowing on the headboard. She was still bound by the wrists and unable to move, and she was also half naked. 

  
  


Brandon, apparently, had taken it upon himself to remove her jeans and panties while she was unconscious. He was still there, sitting at the other end of the bed and watching her intently. He had a cigarette in his hand as well, nervously smoking it in severe silence. She shifted her legs nervously, trying to find a position in which less of her anatomy was exposed, but it was no use. She was burning with humiliation under his gaze, and was so scared of him she felt sick. 

  
  


He kept watching her. He watched her start to cry, and try to break the ropes that held her in place. He was thankful of the silencer spell he had placed on the curtains of the bed when she started to scream. The cords strained at her wrists, cutting her skin until tiny rivulets of blood ran down her arms. 

  
  


He was finished with his cigarette, and so he leaned forward and put it out on her stomach, wincing as her piercing yell of pain cleaved through his brain. While still leaning over her, he wrapped his hands lightly around her throat, taking some sick sort of pleasure from the fact that he could scare her so effectively. Some part of him was delighted with the fact that she was afraid, and wanted to see her shriek and writhe. Another part of him just wanted her to shut up. 

  
  


But in there still, was the part that loved her. Loved her, but hated her at the same time. Because of what she was, his love was his shame. 

  
  


"Fuck you, Brandon," she spat at him in some last-ditch attempt at bravado, and he tightened his grip on her neck until she couldn't breath. 

  
  


Deprived of air, and so afraid, her surroundings seemed to fade. Bright lights flashed in front of her eyes as she faintly felt her knees being prised apart. She thought she was going to die. 

  
  


There was a shock of terrible pain, deep inside her, like nothing she had ever felt before, between her legs . . .

  
  
  
  
  
  


********************************

  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	11. Severus makes a mistake, viola makes a p...

This chapter is only half finished . . . but I had to pot something before this story gets lost somewhere within ff.net and is never heard from again. 

  
  
  
  


Chapter 11

  
  
  
  


It was after midnight when Viola woke up in her own bed. She uncertainly remembered the walk back to her dormitories, but it was hazy and unclear from shock. She couldn't remember dressing herself, but she was back into her clothing, for some reason without her shoes. Her jeans felt a bit damp between her legs, and her stomach wrenched. 

  
  


She moaned inwardly at the realization that she was still bleeding. She could still feel the very vivid pain, from the burn on her stomach, which was now a stinging blister, to the bruises on her neck, which had darkened to a nasty purple color. The worst pain, though, was not physical. 

  
  


Her mind reeled in terrible confusion and unbearable sadness at what Brandon had done to her. She knew he had a dark side, and she had always been afraid of that part of him, but to actually have those fears confirmed was such an immense blow to the face that she wasn't sure she even believed it yet. 

  
  


A blast of agony tore through her damaged cervix as she got out of bed, forcing her to finally believe fully, just what had went on in the boys dorm. 

  
  


A tear rolled silently down her face, oozing over the puffed up flesh of a black eye. As quickly as possible, with sort of a limp, she left the room, exiting the Slytherin area of the castle completely. She had wrapped her school robe tightly around herself, gathering it securely at her neck, trying vainly to cover the bruises there. 

  
  


She didn't run into anyone in the hallway, thankfully. Not even Mrs Norris showed her glowing eyes in the dungeons, so Viola's walk was gratifyingly uneventful. It was frightening, though, with only the odd guttering torch to give her light. By the time she made it to her destination, she was trembling with nerves. 

  
  


Her destination. She wasn't even aware that she had one until she reached its door. The Potions classroom, of course. She needed another healing potion, and this was the only place to get one without visiting Madame Pomfrey. 

  
  


She faltered before opening the door. Looking over both shoulders, she made sure no one was sneaking up on her. She strained her ears, trying to listen around corners for any sort of muffled footsteps. 

  
  


Silent, not a sound or trace of anyone. It was uncharacteristic of her to be so edgy, and she tried to dismiss the bad feeling she was getting in her stomach as she pushed the wooden door open and stepped inside. 

  
  


Much to her shock, she found the classroom brightly lit, a cauldron standing ready on a worktable with ingredients piled neatly beside it. She tried to steady her quaking limbs and looked at the plants and vials of components. The measurements, the weights, everything was laid out perfectly for making just what she needed to make. 

  
  


A chill crept up her spine, and she pulled her robe a little tighter against the sudden cold. She looked around again, making sure she was alone, but no one else appeared to be in the room with her. She had heard a rumor years ago that Harry Potter had an invisibility cloak, but why would he be in the Potions class in the middle of the night making a healing draught? 

  
  


She quickly ruled out that possibility, once again fearful of being caught out past curfew, looking like she did. As quickly as she could manage, she began throwing the ingredients into the cauldron, lighting the fire underneath with a fast flick of her wand. 

  
  


Waiting patiently was not an option. Her muscles were tightly coiled, and she was restless and uneasy. She paced the classroom, cursing the cauldron's slow production of what she needed so badly. 

  
  


While she waited, she decided to take the time to inspect her injuries more thoroughly. Pulling her sleeves up slightly, she regarded the deep red rings that had been carved around her wrists by the rope. Sore. 

  
  


He had punched her several times, and each dark bruise on her ribs and chest was punctuated by his families crest, which he wore on an insignia ring on his left hand. It hurt.

  
  


The burn from his cigarette had blistered, and was sticking to the fabric of her shirt. She pulled the material away quickly, wincing, and examined she skin she had torn. Aching.

  
  


Her neck was swollen and smarting. She glanced into the reflective liquid in the cauldron and cringed, repulsed by the dark colored hand prints circling her throat. Her lower lip trembled again, and the tears stung her eyes, but now she forced herself to keep them back. The potion was nearly ready, and now she was prepared to remove all traces of what had happened and get on with things. She wanted to forget about it, wanted to just phase it out so badly and never think about it again. 

  
  


Strangely, the way she was feeling then reminded her of how she had felt on Christmas, after Snape had embraced her so intimately. She felt as if she had seen the part of Brandon that no one ever noticed, but instead of the good, she saw that little devil that told him what to do. 

  
  
  
  


Snape slowly dragged his mind away from sleep, and lifted his head from his arms. In full wakefulness, the nightmares had less grip on his senses and he felt safe in the familiar surroundings. Although falling asleep in his office was not the most comfortable thing to do, once in a while it helped to keep him from sleeping too deeply.

  
  


His hands still shook slightly from his encounter with the many Dementors, and all at once he remembered that he had started preparing a healing potion in the classroom. Cursing his forgetfulness, and wondering vaguely if he had left the cauldron simmering, he swung open the door which separated his office from the classroom. 

  
  


He stood, transfixed, in the doorway. For a moment he just stared, and he was struck by a chilling feeling of deja vu, as if he had seen this stage before. Viola was making a healing potion. 

  
  


Annoyance surged through him. He was tired, so very tired, and the last thing he wanted to deal with was a student. Any other student, he supposed, he could have handled. Just taken a round fifty points from their house and send them off to bed. But why did the gods want him to deal with this particular student on a regular basis? Why did their paths keep conveniently crossing, to the point where he couldn't keep his hands off her?

  
  


He knew there was something wrong with her. It was obvious, lately, with the way she carried herself. Head down, always alone or with that boyfriend of hers . . . And now, even, covered in bruises and stifling tears. The voice of Albus Dumbledore filled his memory briefly, reminding him of his prior request. That he keep an eye on Viola Rienne, and make sure she did alright in Slytherin. She did need help. Even, perhaps, his help. He was, after all, her head of house and therefore her mentor. 

  
  


Another thing was that he knew that Brandon had done this to her. He had seen the strange tendencies in the boy from his first year at school, and frequently saw them in Adrien Carter, his father, at Death Eater revels. The little boyish habits, like pulling the legs off of spiders had steadily escalated into bullying, and now, obviously, blatant sadomasochism.

  
  


But he had also kissed her once, and that was enough to make him want to mind his own damn business and stay away. Current circumstances made it . . . difficult to keep a student/teacher relationship in clear perspective. 

  
  


But it was so obvious she needed someone. Anyone, to just reach out a kind hand and help. She needed a few reassuring words, the borrowed strength of a stronger person. 

  
  


Well . . . thought Severus to himself. Not bloody fucking likely. 

  
  


He shoved the door completely open, and Viola yelped in shock as it slammed back on its hinges, revealing the tall, threatening shape of a very angry Death Eater. 

  
  


She backed away from him as much as she could, gripping her robe closed around her neck. She backed away from her cauldron until her back touched the wall, and she still wasn't far enough away from him. 

  
  


It was interesting, he felt, that he didn't even have to say a word to have her sufficiently terrified. It wasn't until he reached the worktable and caught his reflection in the glassy surface of the potion, that he realized why she was so afraid. 

  
  


Instead of his aristocratic features being reflected at him, he saw the bleached white fabric of his mask, horrifying in its simplicity, really, and he was tremendously shocked at his own stupidity. 

  
  


Viola had begun to tremble violently, pressed against the wall almost hard enough to disappear inside it. Her entire body was taut and nervous, and spasms in her muscles caused more blood to soak her jeans. She was suddenly aware of how much she really needed that healing potion, but she would rather bleed to death before she took a step closer. She wished desperately for her wand, but it was laying on the work table, a million miles away. 

  
  


How could he have forgotten to remove his mask? How could he had let his guard down so horribly as to be seen by a student? His anger was turned now on himself, no longer on the shaking young girl who cowered in front of him.

  
  


She sank down to the floor, covering her face with her arms and sobbing in terror. In her panic, she thought the Death Eaters had invaded the school. There had been so much talk about it lately, in the Slytherin common room, and she now feared very vividly that it was finally happening. Oh gods, they had all been right. . . Malfoy and Brandon . . . Miles and Allison Nott and Danica . . . their parents had been right . . . Voldemort was taking the school and she would die because she was a mudblood . . . 

  
  


She didn't notice when he crossed the room and crouched in front of her. She didn't notice he was so close until he gripped her upper arms and shook her, none to gently, in an attempt to make her look at him. 

  
  


He had taken the mask off.

  
  


She punched him in the face. 

  
  


Not some girly little swing, or a bitch slap, but a real left hook that connected quite solidly with his mouth. She hit him hard enough to make him back away and take his hands off of her, and that was all she needed. Quick as she could manage, her potion forgotten, she ran from her teacher to the door, trying savagely to open it, but he was holding it locked with his wand. 

  
  


"Viola, stop this and listen to me." he tried to reason with her, and refused to let her out of the classroom until he had at least obliviated her memory slightly. He wiped a trickle of blood off his chin with the heel of his hand.

  
  


"Don't talk to me!" she screamed back at him, attempting to keep as much distance between them as possible. "Gods, don't you dare talk to me!"

  
  


"Viola, I'm not - "

  
  


"You're disgusting!" she spat at him, and he accepted that. "How can you live in Dumbledore's school and . . . and . . ."

  
  


"I'm not a Death Eater." he said calmly. There was no point yelling back at her. 

  
  


"I'm not stupid!" her bravado was fading fast, but her revulsion was still there. "Gods, those people at the train station . . ." She looked strait at his eyes. "They were Death Eaters . . . you brought me there with you!"

  
  
  
  


"I had to take you with me." he justified himself. "Please, would you stop being such a child and let me explain something to you?" He was not one for patience, and her display was starting to wear on his nerves. 

  
  


"I let you touch me!" Her voice was full of disgust. 

  
  


He opened his mouth to reply, but thought better of it. That one stung, because he knew exactly what she was talking about. They were both silent for a moment, until he mumbled, "Your potion looks finished." before turning and disappearing inside his office.

  
  


As soon as his back was facing her she bolted to the door again, but he was still holding it shut. He wasn't going to let her go. 

  
  


She took the abrupt silence as time to sort out her thoughts as she scooped the potion into her mouth with her hands. The beautiful feeling of the hurts disappearing calmed her somewhat, and she found she was able to think quite clearly. 

  
  


There was the shock of seeing Snape dressed as a Death Eater, but she wasn't as afraid of him as she had been. If he had wanted to kill her, he would have . . . unless. . . 

  
  


She shuddered. She knew what Death Eaters did to people they captured. She had read about it in the Daily Prophet countless times, about the things they did to women and girls. And Snape . . . well, he obviously had some sort of interest in her. 

  
  


Snape watched her from the doorway again, his wand in his hand. He was deliberating weather or not he should erase her memory of this entire evening, but was quickly deciding not to. He should have, really. He could even obliviate the memory of their kiss in the hallway. It would surely save his own ass. 

  
  


But he didn't want her to forget that, for some reason. His jaw throbbed where she had hit him, and for that reason, he didn't feel she deserved to have her memory eradicated. He wasn't angry that she had struck him, in fact, he admired the way she had fought him. She was convinced that he was a Death Eater, and for all she knew he could have been preparing to rape her, or worse. 

  
  


He found himself wondering, again, why she was a Slytherin.

  
  
  
  


*************************

  
  
  
  
  
  


Sometime later, when the initial shock had worn off, Viola would find herself wondering how the events of that night would find her once again in her teacher's arms. 

  
  


After she was sure that he wasn't watching her anymore, she established a plan. It was desperate and weak, at best, but it was the only way she could think of to get the upper hand. Quick as possible, she ran to his desk and began searching through the drawers, breaking the locking charms in her desperation without any effort at all. 

  
  


"Shit . . . Where is it?" she muttered to herself, tearing through the contents of the drawers. He had shown it to them two days before . . . in class . . . but where had he put it? 

  
  


Relief flooded her as she brought her hand out of the bottom drawer, tightly clutching what she had been hunting for. A tiny glass bottle, half full of completely colorless liquid. Veritaserum. 

  
  


She calmly emptied the bottle into the healing potion, and then resumed her position of dread against the wall, waiting for him to come out and face her again. He said he would explain everything, and she had definitely made sure that he would. 

  
  


A moment later, Snape exited his office, dressed now in normal denims and a button down shirt. Traditionally black, of course, but it made him look far less threatening. His lip was still bleeding where she punched him, and just as he predicted, and scooped a glass into the cauldron and drank deeply. Silently, Viola prayed that it would work. His adams apple bobbed up and down as he gulped, and she couldn't resist testing him.

  
  


"What's your full name?" she asked suddenly, causing him to stop drinking and sputter in a very undignified manner. 

  
  


"Severus Anthony Gordon Snape." he said immediately, and a look of alarm danced over his face. He had meant to ignore her stupid question, but had answered involuntarily. His throat tightened with fatal recognition as she showed him the empty glass bottle, a wicked smile curling her mouth. 

  
  


Surprisingly, he smiled back, just as evilly. It unnerved her. "You should be careful what you ask me, miss Rienne . . ." He murmured. "That was intelligent, but I wouldn't want to frighten you with the answers to those . . . inevitable questions which I know you'll be asking me." He wanted to laugh at her accomplishment, to congratulate her on deliberate cunning. But unfortunately, he was very worried about the questions she might foolishly examine. 

  
  


She shivered, but maintained eye contact with the man that would tell her anything she asked him, and she was suddenly aware that she probably didn't want to know most of it. 

  
  


"Before you interrogate me . . ." his eyes narrowed. "Ten points to Hufflepuff, for your cleverness."

  
  


"I'm a Slytherin, professor." she reminded him, as if he was a bit less than sane. 

  
  


He laughed cruelly. "You certainly are." and then he lunged at her. 

  
  


**********************

  
  


Jesus am I ever getting lazy . . . its been forever since I sat down to write this stupid story . . . oh well. Once school starts I'm sure I'll be updating way more often . . . summer just has so many distractions . . . 

  
  


Please drop a review! 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	12. the story comes out or most of it any...

Chapter 12, A Lecture in Potions. 

  
  
  
  


Two days earlier.

  
  


"The difference between wand magic and the magic created by potions is entirely material. A wand, by itself, is not magical, of course. It is just a piece of wood. The magic is also not found in the words a witch or wizard speaks in order to perform spells. The magic is found purely in the mind and body of the user, with incantations to focus the desire and the wand to, in a sense, aim. 

  
  


"Potions, on the other hand, are created by combining any number of magical ingredients to cause the desired effects. The magic is not from the mind of the person brewing, and so the power is very physical, rather then mental. Any muggle with the right ingredients could create a successful potion full of magic. Wand magic can be fought with a powerful mind, as long as it is more powerful a mind than that of the person wielding the wand. But to give someone a potion is foolproof, whatever your desire, because of the ingredients; they themselves are magical. It's a tangible sort of magic, with it's own color, scent and taste, all of which transmit the magic through the body, where it effects and/or enhances the capabilities, knowledge, or actions of the drinker.

  
  


"For the purpose of this discussion, we will view the complex potion, Veritaserum, as an example of physical magic. Who in here knows what Veritaserum is?"

  
  


A few hands raised. 

  
  


"Fred Weasley?" 

  
  


"I'm George, Professor Snape."

  
  


"George, then." he said, irritated.

  
  


"S'a truth serum."

  
  


"Very good, thank you for your annual confirmation of substandard intelligence and grammar. Veritaserum is not exactly a potion to make someone tell the truth, but rather a potion to make someone incredibly impulsive. 

  
  


"When someone asks you a question, under the influence of this potion or not, the first impulse a human being has is to answer truthfully. This is simply because the truth is easier. Any lie, no matter how good at it a person might be, demands preparation. It must be invented, first of all, and it has to be believable and credible and beneficial to the liar. The truth you already know, and weather it benefits you at all, it is still much simpler than a lie. 

  
  


"Veritaserum's individual elements work in the human body to isolate the first verbal impulses and eliminate all other options, causing the affected person to blurt the complete truth to any question he or she might be asked. 

  
  


"A truth spell, cast by a wand onto a person can be overcome if the need to lie is stronger than the caster's need to hear the truth. Why?"

  
  


Here he pointed to a Slytherin boy.

  
  


"Because mental magic, or wand magic, comes from the caster's own mind."

  
  


"Elaborate, you're just repeating me."

  
  


"Sometimes the mind of the caster is weaker than the mind of the person being questioned, making it possible for that person to give evasive answers or even lie completely."

  
  


"Yes, right. Five points to Slytherin. Now, Veritaserum is a very . . . effective sort of potion. One drop will have any person pouring out their darkest secrets at the slightest suggestion from someone else. An overdose of the potion can have increasingly brutal effects. Firstly, if someone is oblivious to the fact that they have been given this sort of potion, as they usually are since not many would willingly undergo this administration, fear would undoubtably set in at the first sign that they have lost control over their speech. And since Veritaserum encourages the first impulses, that fear would turn quickly into panic and desperation, and the need for self preservation, any creatures leading instinct in any situation, would be enhanced and the impulse to either fight or flee in order to maintain control would be put into immediate action. 

  
  


"Veritaserum should be used carefully at all times, and its distribution is closely monitored by the Ministry of Magic . . . . .

  
  
  
  


*****************************

  
  
  
  


Viola was immobilized. Her arms were pinned solidly to her sides, and no matter how much she struggled, he held her tight with one arm circled firmly over her chest. The force made her whimper as her breasts were crushed. His other arm rounded her neck slowly, pulling her head back against his shoulder.

  
  


The tendons stood out vividly on her neck. She could feel his breath, hot and harsh, on her ear, and he was pulling her head back so far that for a split second she thought he was going to kill her. Suddenly, as if he had been burned, he let go and stood back. 

  
  


She whirled around to face him and was shocked. His eyes were wild, exploding with fiery dread. His entire body was shaking, and he was so much paler than usual. 

  
  


"How much did you give me?" Snape groaned, and she knew he was in pain from trying so hard to control himself. He was having trouble speaking without revealing anything. 

  
  


"I'm not answering your questions." Viola spat disdainfully, surprising herself with the confidence in her voice. 

  
  


He made as if to grab her again, but stopped when she pointed her wand at his chest. 

  
  


"Are you a Death Eater?"

  
  


"Yes." He answered through clenched teeth. There was no thought, no deliberation at all in his mind. Only raw instinct and the unfortunate truth.

  
  


"Jesus Christ . . ." she was visibly appalled. "How can you keep this from Dumbledore?"

  
  


"He knows."

  
  


She hesitated before saying, "Explain," unaware that the effects of the Veritaserum would make for a very long and detailed story. Severus looked at her for a second or two, his expression unreadable. His mouth was already opening when he sat down heavily on a stool behind a worktable. The first words had already left his mouth as he raked a rand nervously through his hair, and he prepared himself to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. 

  
  
  
  


****************************

  
  
  
  


19 years ago. 

  
  
  
  


It was such a long walk from the Slytherin table to the teachers' table, and the boy was troubled and shaky. He never faltered though, and collected his diploma from the deputy headmaster with a quiet sort of dignity that was rarely seen in the clumsy, skinny teenager. He nervously adjusted his black pointed hat on his sable hockey hair. 

  
  


As he took his seat again, he thought for a moment that the graduation ceremony was going to last forever, and seventeen year old Severus Snape kept glancing at his watch, much to the annoyance of the blond boy sitting beside him at the Slytherin table. 

  
  


"Relax, Sev." Lucius Malfoy whispered. "We'll go as soon as this shit is over."

  
  


Severus didn't reply. His throat was too choked with nerves to allow any coherent words through. 

  
  


A camera flashed, and he looked to where the graduates' parents were situated, their faces proud and teary-eyed, and he saw Nicola. She was smiling at him, waving a developing moving Polaroid. 

  
  


Fucking great. Severus thought. The last thing I need is for her to be here. 

  
  


The sight of the small old woman made Severus want to cry. His parents weren't there, of course, but why should they be? He hadn't been allowed to see his parents since he was fifteen, and they hadn't even raised him before that. Nicola had. 

  
  


Cyrus and Deanna Snape were not the most affectionate of parents. They were both wealthy and aristocratic, and upon the birth of their fourth son they were very tired of raising children. Little baby Severus was handed over to one of the servants, a middle-aged woman named Nicola whom they had enlisted as a nanny. He never had much contact with his family, as the Snape manor was rather large and Nicola had a tendency to keep Severus busy in areas where no one was likely to find him. She loved the child fiercely, and had no desire to see him turn out like his older brothers. 

  
  


His parents barely noticed him growing up. Periodically they would take time out of their lives to sneer at him, and the boy quickly learned to mimic the expression. His grandmother, who lived with them in the house, was even worse. She was completely mad in her old age, and had a habit of staring at him with her milky, sightless eyes. 

  
  


His brothers, Julian, Mason, and Gabriel, were much older than him and were away most of the time at Durmstrang, where they attended school. All three had received letters to attend Hogwarts, but their father had said no, his children were never going to a magic school for muggles. When the boys returned home in the summer, young Severus was a guinea pig for the frightening hexes and curses that they had been taught. Severus learned very quickly to avoid his family. 

  
  


On his eleventh birthday, in the basement of the manor where no one would look for him, he received his letter. 

  
  


Nicola knew it would be coming as soon as his birthday started approaching. She searched through the mail every morning for it, waiting. Finally it came, addressed to Mr Severus Snape in curly script. She hid it in her apron until that night.

  
  


In the dark, with only a flickering candle for light, the young boy read his letter and begged Nicola to find a way to let him go there, and not to Durmstrang with his brothers. She promised. 

  
  


Cyrus Snape was a hard man, and gave little credit to his family. Especially that skinny runt of a son, but it hardly mattered. Durmstrang would toughen the little sod, and if not a good beating would do it. Cyrus never expected his youngest child, usually so quiet and reserved, to disobey him. 

  
  


Severus had faced his father in the Dining Hall of their home one week after his birthday, the Hogwarts letter held tightly in his hand. Severus, who weighed maybe sixty pounds soaking wet, and who had never said more than 'yes sir' to his father in his entire life, stood and faced him and said that he would be going to Hogwarts, and not Durmstrang. 

  
  


Cyrus was shocked more than anything, and it took him a full minute to react. One minute and one second later, the boy lay sprawled out on the hardwood floor, blood pouring from his broken nose. When he woke up in the morning, Nicola was nowhere in the house, and his name was down for Durmstrang in the fall. He attended the Bulgarian school until the end of his fifth year, when he was saved by Albus Dumbledore. 

  
  


Even though Nicola had been forcefully removed from the Snape household, she never forgot her promise to the young boy she had loved so much. She immediately sent an owl to the Headmaster of Hogwarts, begging him to somehow get Severus out of his father's reach, for his own safety. Thought there was nothing Dumbledore could do at the time, he kept a close watch on the manor, waiting for the reason he knew would soon come before he could do anything. 

  
  


When it finally did, it was nearly too late. After five years at Durmstrang, Severus was very different from the silent, degraded boy he once was. They used the cane there, and his back was calloused from his share of beatings. His large sad eyes had been transformed. They were now sharp and cutting, glittering black diamonds. 

  
  


And oh how he hated them all. He hated how his mother fawned over the older brothers, and ignored him. He hated how he had no friends at that school, how he never made the Quidditch team even though he was good. He hated the teachers for caning him when he did better work than the other students. He hated the girls who laughed at him because he was ugly. He hated how he was forced to spend his time reading all alone in the dark

  
  


Severus Snape hated himself, because it was all he knew how to do. 

  
  


But most of all, more than anything in the world, he hated his father. Hated him so much for breaking his nose and sending him there with his three violent brothers for company. Hated the looks of concept he had been forced to live with his entire childhood. He had never done anything wrong, and he hated his father because he knew Cyrus hated him. 

  
  


He had returned home for the summer for the last time, and for the first time, he was greeted at the door by Cyrus Snape. 

  
  


"Got a present for you, Sev," he said, holding out a long parcel wrapped in brown paper. Severus was surprised, to say the least. His father never spoke to him, and to receive a gift . . . it was unheard of. Gifts from Cyrus Snape were reserved for Julian and Mason and Gabriel, not for him. Never for Severus. For a moment his eyes softened back to their shy, nervous expression and he took the gift from his father. 

  
  


"Thank you," he mumbled. Five years of getting caned had a way of making one remember to use their manners. Carefully he opened the package, and soon he was staring, dumbfounded, at a broomstick. 

  
  


"I thought it was about time you made the Quidditch team at school, since your brothers have graduated." for the rest of his life, Severus would never have a clue why Cyrus had gotten him anything, but it hardly mattered. Maybe it was fate. 

  
  


Tears stung his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Of course he had tried to make the school team. It was the only thing he ever really tried to do. He even had his own broom. He had to save every scrap of money he came across for a year but he bought one and still didn't make the team. His brothers had always done something, anything, to make him miss practice. His broom was standing in a corner in his bedroom, collecting dust ever since he had given up on doing anything as good as his siblings could. 

  
  


Oh god he hated him. His young soul was devoured by disgust and rage. He trembled with revulsion. 

  
  


Don't think. 

  
  


Did the man just not give a shit at all? Did he just have no clue about anything that went on in his youngest child's life? 

  
  


Don't think Severus. Keep moving. 

  
  


He started to walk into the house, past his father, eyes aimed carefully forward. It would have been fine if Cyrus had decided not to say anything more to his son, but alas, it was meant to be this way. 

  
  


"You ungrateful little fuck, got nothing to say to your father?" 

  
  


"Fuck you, Dad." Severus said. And gods, did he mean it. He meant those words with every fibre of his being, and they were very nearly his last. 

  
  


A week later, when he had regained consciousness in the hospital wing of Hogwarts, Severus asked Headmaster Dumbledore how he had known he needed help. Dumbledore looked down at the bruised and broken teenager, fractured bones wrapped tightly but still in so much pain. 

  
  


"I heard you scream." was all the old man said. 

  
  


It was not nearly as simple as that. Severus found out later that his father had beaten him an inch from death. Two broken arms, seven cracked ribs and a fractured skull. Long, dark bruises branded his back, as if someone had went at him with a broomstick. A severe concussion, and many assorted cuts and abrasions. Half the town had heard him scream. 

  
  


Nicola heard him. Ever since she had been ejected from the Snape manor, she kept a home very close by. She recognized the agonized cries as his, and used her fireplace to call Dumbledore. 

  
  
  
  


The Headmaster arrived at the house a half hour later, and by then the shrieks had stopped. This worried him greatly, the house was so silent and cold. It had started to rain, but Dumbledore was so intent on his task that he didn't even notice. Walking slowly up the path to the door of the manor, he spotted Severus laying in a heap on the front porch. The rain was sloshing blood away from his body in swirls of sickening red, washing it down the stone steps in little crimson rivulets. No one else was home except the grandmother, who laughed madly as the old man levitated Severus and apparated him to the school. 

  
  


He spent half of the summer in the Hospital Wing recovering under the care of a much younger Miss Pomfrey, and the other half he spent in Hogsmeade, where he lived with his guardian, Nicola. When fall came around, he joyously attended Hogwarts for the first time. 

  
  


He felt awkward sitting on the tiny stool with the sorting hat on his head, but he was happy to be there, for the first minute or two. The hat took forever to sort him, and when it finally shouted "SLYTHERIN!" he was almost too embarrassed to take his seat. Perhaps it was fate yet again, but he sat down next to Lucius Malfoy, who took him under his wing. Lucius knew what Severus wanted more than anything, and maybe that's why they became such close friends. If it wasn't for Lucius, Severus might have been able to forget the old hate for his family, but Lucius was working for Voldemort, and Lucius had promised revenge. 

  
  


But Nicola was always there for him, and that made it better. He would visit her on Hogsmeade weekends, and stayed with her on holidays and during the summer. He loved her, not like a mother because he never loved his mother, but something like that. That little bit of love was the only thing that kept him from running strait to Voldemort, like Lucius had wanted. 

  
  


The thought of how he was betraying her now . . . for the first time in his life, he seriously considered committing suicide. Things had been going so wonderful. But now, two years later, he had found his way back into the hate. 

  
  


The diplomas were all handed out and finally Dumbledore stood to end the ceremony. He spoke to his students, of hope and good times which would soon be on the horizon if they only thought very carefully about their futures. Their were all in the midst of very dark times, of course, and there was hidden agendas amongst many of the students and even some of the teachers, working right under the headmaster's nose. 

  
  


The old man's crystal blue eyes swept optimistically over his students, his gaze seeming to linger on some. He looked for a full five seconds at Lucius, who just stared calmly back, his strangely beautiful face expressionless. He looked at Lucius like he was expecting something, a crack in the wall, a twitch, anything . . . and Severus, for a second laced with panic, thought the old man knew. 

  
  


When he looked beside the blond young man at Severus, who was not so angelically handsome in his youth as his friend, Albus Dumbledore appeared only heavy-hearted and disappointed. He did know. Suicide was considered a second time. It was starting to sound live a very spectacular idea. 

  
  


The sun outside was setting, it was warm and even birds were singing somewhere in the distance. It was a beautiful evening, really, but neither Lucius or Severus noticed it as they departed from the school for the first time as licensed wizards instead of as students.

  
  


In the general confusion of graduates and parents, it was easy to sneak away from the flow of people heading to the carriages which would take them to Hogsmeade and the Hogwarts Express. The two boys went instead to the Forbidden Forest, where they apparated illegally, since they wouldn't be able to take the test for another couple of weeks. They disappeared as soon as they were out of sight of the school, and reappeared outside a graveyard. 

  
  


Lucius had been there before, of course, but it was Snape's first visit, and he was terrified. For a split second he considered running away, but knew that he couldn't. Deep down, he wanted to be there. He needed to be there. 

  
  


"Don't be scared, Severus." Lucius said, genuinely concerned for his friend. "Voldemort rewards those who serve him. You'll get your revenge through Him."

  
  


That was all he wanted. It was petty and evil and sad, but that neglected, abused child was having a tantrum inside Sev's mind, shrieking to have his vengeance. He wanted to see that dismal fucking house burned to the ground, with all of them inside it.

  
  


He wanted his father to scream. Scream until death saved him. 

  
  


"I've got you a present, Sev," Lucius smiled, looking a bit nervous himself. He opened his backpack and pulled out black robes and white masks. He handed one ensemble to his friend, and helped him to put it on, before donning them himself. 

  
  


"Are you ready?" he questioned, his voice slightly muffled from the mask. 

  
  


"Yes." yes. Ready. Ready to sell my soul to the devil. To Voldemort. So he can help me take revenge. Oh gods. Oh shit what the hell am I doing? 

  
  


"Let's go then." 

  
  


"Alright." oh shit . . . don't think about it. Don't think. Just walk. Keep moving. 

  
  


They walked together across the sloping grounds towards the cemetery, where a crowd had already gathered. 

  
  
  
  


*******************************

  
  
  
  


Argh . . Sorry to cut off like this again another third of the way into the chapter . . . I'll have the rest up in a week, hopefully . . . how do you all like Sev's story so far? Sad huh? Poor kid . . . every writer who has ever done a Snapefic has been faced with the challenge of deciding why he became a death eater, and then why he became a spy. Its getting hard to be original, but I tried my very hardest, honest I did!

  
  


Anyway, I've decided, dignity be damned, that I am going to beg for reviews. I am a crack addict, only not addicted to crack per say, just reviews. Yeah. Your reviews are like sweet crack to me. Review! Please!

  
  


I love you all. 

Jeni

XOXO 

  
  



	13. it just brings tears to my eyes

To mary, of course Brandon will get his ass kicked. People like him always do. Be patient my child, as the story unfolds. Here's a lil hint, just cause you said such nice things to me . . . remember at the beginning, when Viola is looking in the crystal ball? 

  
  


To Courtney, thanks so much for the compliments! I try not to sugar coat much when I write . . . and truthfully, this story had been sitting in my drawer for quite a while before I found ff.net . . .

  
  


I never add disclaimers. Before I go to jail, this all belongs to Rowling, unless it belongs to me. 

  
  


Chapter 13, the master storyteller.

  
  
  
  


Viola had taken a seat at the worktable across from him, silent tears streaking her face. Severus had deflated. He was slouching over the worktable, head in his hands. He had paused finally from his long narrative, as if to breathe, before starting again, urged by the powerful potion in his veins. His voice was raw and pained, and it hurt her to pay attention to him, but the story was too terrible to ignore, and so she listened anyway. 

  
  
  
  


*****************************

  
  
  
  


It was fully dark now, and the nerves young Snape had been feeling earlier had escalated into complete, mind-blowing terror. 

  
  


You-Know-Who had arrived. 

  
  


The only light came from a bon fire in the center of the gathering, throwing grotesque shadows across the ground. Sitting still upon a gravestone, gazing grimly around at his followers, was Voldemort. 

  
  


Tom Marvolo Riddle was fifty years old, but in his fight to conquer death he appeared to be so much younger, barely older than a Hogwarts graduate. The light breeze ruffled his black hair, but that was the only part of him that moved. He sat in unresponsive silence, his glittering green eyes narrowed and sharp; he seemed to see so much more than what was shown.

  
  


"What does it look like?" Snape grabbed Malfoy's arm as the boy started to walk toward his master and held him back. Lucius rolled his eyes and lifted the sleeve of his robe to reveal his Dark Mark. 

  
  


"There, Severus, just like a tattoo." He said, slightly exasperated.

  
  


"Does it hurt?" the annoyance left Malfoy's eyes, and was replaced with rarely seen commiseration. He placed his hand on Snape's shoulder and squeezed gently. 

  
  


"Only at first." 

  
  


Not quite satisfied with his friend's answer he pulled the mask over his face and approached the growing circle of people, staying closer to Lucius than was really necessary. 

  
  


Malfoy took his friend firmly by the elbow and maneuvered him closer to the fire, leaving him situated at the end of a line of seven people. Seven new recruits for Voldemort's army. He gave Snape's shoulder another comforting grasp, wished him luck, and then slunk away into the shadows with the others to watch. 

  
  


There was a movement to his right, and Severus almost jumped out of his skin. Voldemort had vaulted nimbly off the grave on which he had been sitting, drawing the attention of everyone present. Before anyone had even seen him move, he had his wand out and pointed at the fire. 

  
  


At the muttering of a few simple words, the fire burst into an inferno of green sparks and swirling smoke. The light it cast over the assembly of people dyed their robes even deeper black, and turned their white masks the sickening color of decay.

  
  


The Dark Lord paced the length of the line, looking each of the seven new followers in the eyes. When he got to Severus, the boy started to shake violently, hoping desperately that Voldemort wouldn't notice he was petrified. 

  
  


He swallowed hard (Don't think oh gods don't think he can smell that you're afraid just breath it will all go away) and continued to look strait ahead. 

  
  


Voldemort turned away from the recruits finally, and addressed a Death Eater to his left. "You may begin now." He nodded to the man, and stepped aside. 

  
  


The Death Eater approached the first recruit and stood facing him or her squarely. "Child, who do you serve?" His voice was deep and harsh, and so familiar to Severus Snape. 

  
  


"The Lord Voldemort." The voice that replied was young and female, sure and without hesitation. 

  
  


"How will you serve him?" Severus racked his brains to remember where he had heard the man's voice before, but came up blank. 

  
  


Once again she spoke, still unswerving and positive. "By ridding the world of my Lord's enemies."

  
  


"Give me your arm, child." 

  
  


Snape strained his eyes to see the girl lift her left sleeve and present her arm to the other man. With her free hand she pointed her wand into the sky, murmured the incantation and shot the leering skull symbol into the air above her head. The snake wormed out of the grinning jaw and hissed, before the entire specter exploded, showering her with green sparks. The Death Eater pointed his wand at her pale skin and shouted something, but the words were covered by the sound of her piercing screams. 

  
  


She had received the Dark Mark, and it sounded painful. Snape heard her fall to the ground, but was too scared to continue to watch the ceremony. The man moved on to the next one to receive the mark, a step closer to a quaking Severus. 

  
  


"Child, who do you serve?"

  
  


(Don't think Severus for god's sake don't think who is he that damned voice . . .)

  
  


Another skull shot into the sky, and more shrieks tore through the night air. 

  
  


(It will be worth it Severus this is your revenge you'll scream but he will scream louder by the time you are finished . . . Don't think about it think about revenge . . . )

  
  


He repeated the words in his head like a feral mantra until they were no longer words, just sounds and sensations blurred together in terror that was almost agonizing. Voldemort was watching his new disciples writhe and cry on the ground with unwholesome restitution. By the time the man stood facing Severus, the other six were senseless from the pain. 

  
  


The young man felt his insides twisting, the little food he had eaten at the graduation ceremony was being violently rejected, but he was too tense to even be sick. 

  
  


"Child, who do you serve?" The deep, booming voice was softened slightly, drifting out form behind the eerie mask. 

  
  


"The Dark Lord and his legion." He replied, his words surprisingly steady, not betraying any of the horror he was suffering to control. 

  
  


The man nodded slightly, as if in approval. "How will you serve him?"

  
  


By doing whatever it takes to have my revenge. "By ridding the world of the filth who oppose him." By ridding the world of my father so no one can hurt me ever again so I can have my retribution before I die. "And by giving my life to my Lord's cause."

  
  


Another favoring nod, and the man spoke the last words of the rite. "Give me your arm child."

  
  


Slowly and carefully, Severus rolled up the sleeve of his robe, and without any indecision he extended his pale forearm to the man, who lightly gripped his wrist and pointed his wand at the soft skin below his elbow. With his free hand, Severus pointed his wand into the sky, summoned up every bit of hatred and resentment in his young mind, and let everything happen on its own. 

  
  


"Morsmordre!" He yelled, cringing at the bright light that shot out of his wand. He didn't see what he had conjured, though. He was oblivious to the Dark Mark bursting above his head, showering him with sparks. He was staring instead at his arm. 

  
  


From the tip of the Death Eater's wand came hundreds of tiny tendrils, creeping around under his skin, tingling slightly. As the black threads swirled into the shape of a skull, beaming and formidable, the tingling sensation escalated to white-hot pain. 

  
  


Later in life, Severus would compare the feeling of receiving the Dark Mark to that of cruciatus. He thought he was dying. Surely it would kill him, his blood was on fire, his muscles were searing around cracking bones, and if that didn't kill him, his insides were liquified, pouring out of his mouth onto the ground. He had never felt anything so profoundly horrible, and he ground his teeth to keep from screaming like the others had. 

  
  


Gasping in between ragged breaths, he fell down to his knees on the ground, reeling as lights flashed in front of his eyes. 

  
  


"Stay on your feet, Severus!" The roaring voice commanded, still pointing his wand at the prostrated youth. 

  
  


Each breath was like a war to draw in, and his throat was raw and burning. The world was spinning violently around him, and he started to pitch forwards. 

  
  


Before he could fall, the pain began to recede and he was able to heave himself into a very unsteady standing position, his limbs asleep and shaking. He stared, dumbfounded, at the collaboration of vomit on the ground between his feet and started to laugh. It was a dead, hollow sound, half laugh and half cry. The kind of laugh that comes after shock, when nothing is funny. 

  
  


His ears started ringing from the applause before he actually heard it. The Death Eaters who had been watching the ceremony had cut loose with wild howls and ovation, rousing the other youths, who pulled themselves up and looked around them expectantly. 

  
  


Lucius was overcome with admiration for his best friend, and rushed forward to steady him with a supportive arm around the shoulders, laughing heartily. 

  
  


"Sevvie, you little bastard! You did better than I could have imagined!" He crowed. "I've never seen anyone stay standing like that! You should have seen me when I got mine, I was out cold for . . ." he trailed off, losing fervor as he found himself gaping into the face of Voldemort. 

  
  


The Dark Lord turned his gaze from the now silent Lucius Malfoy and looked instead at Severus. 

  
  


The boy was a wreck. His vomit ( which he had mistaken for his guts in the act of disintegration) was streaked down the front of his robe, and his nose was oozing blood through the holes in the mask. Nevertheless, he seemed to have proven himself greatly in their eyes; no longer scared, he looked levelly into his master's eyes. 

  
  


"Very well done." Voldemort gave him a cold smile. "I can tell even now that you will do great things for my cause."

  
  


"Anything, my Lord." It hurt his throat to speak. 

  
  


"And when the time comes, you are sure to be rewarded."

  
  


Severus was beyond exhausted, and could only nod, grinning weakly. He would help that vile piece of shit, and in turn the Snake would help him strike down Cyrus Snape. The plan was coming into complete focus now, delightfully clear, and now he knew it would soon be reality. 

  
  


"Come on, my friend," Lucius started leading his friend away again as soon as Voldemort turned his attention elsewhere. "It's high time we were getting drunk, don't you think?"

  
  


Pushing the fatigue into a far corner of his mind, Severus nodded. "Might as well get started." His legs were finally losing that awful rubbery feeling, but he still had to lean on his friend to walk. 

  
  


"This is going to be quite a party, Sev my boy. Tell me, how does extacy sound to you?"

  
  


"Sounds like the next few days are going to be rather blurry?" He ventured playfully, clinging to his sense of humor as a way to cope with the situation he had just slung himself through.

  
  


"Excellent."

  
  


At that point, Severus Snape was still very much a boy. Childishly naive, he thought he was on top of the bloody world. Things would only get better from here, of course, because there just wasn't any room for error. This blind trust was a tool used by Voldemort on his followers, it was manipulative and effective, he could make them do anything with a few simple promises. 

  
  


Much later in his lifetime, Severus Snape found himself wondering how Voldemort would have lured so many supporters, using only this one method. His conclusion was this: all these people were exactly the same. 

  
  


Snape was identical to his friend Malfoy in the sense that they both needed to be a part of something large. Lucius, despite his good looks and sharp mind, was not well liked in school because of his elitist upbringing. He was equal to the other adolescents in the line of recruits for the same reason, they all needed to be accepted somewhere. Voldemort targets these loners, these desperately low and lonely individuals, and promises them an end to it all. A solution, where they wouldn't have to be shoddy souls, rejected by everyone around them. They couldn't be categorized at school? Send them to the Death Eaters, where everyone fits! Every time a parent asks, "what am I going to do with you?" to their son or daughter, Voldemort has his nose pressed against their window, prepared to take that child into his arms and give them another way. 

  
  


Voldemort knew their insecurities, and that's where he got his power over them. He knew how to nurture the instability, keeping it so elegantly precarious, while at the same time pretending to help them. In return for a few small favors, of course. Loyal service to one Leader is a small price to pay for acceptance. For tolerance among peers. 

  
  


Strangely, right before Severus nearly lost his grip on reason completely, he felt like he was the luckiest guy alive. A blissful sort of feeling that masked the guilt of what he had just done. The kind of feeling that couldn't last. 

  
  


"Severus!" Shouted that dark, deep voice which had moments ago tortured Severus an inch from insanity.

  
  


"How do you know his name?" Lucius asked, turning around to face the enshrouded man. 

  
  


"Shut up you fucking sod," he dismissed Lucius with a biting remark, and for Severus, time stopped. 

  
  


The voice, the tone, the obscenity, everything about this man was betraying his identity. The noisy crowd surrounding them was muted, everything seemed to slow down as Severus was pummeled with recognition. 

  
  


The man pulled off his mask, revealing the face Severus knew was underneath (oh gods all for nothing you stupid shit ), and it was all over. There would never be any revenge ( you sold your soul ) for him now, no retribution, nothing good would ever come out of this terrible action. He noticed a dull ache had settled over his left arm, reminding him, as it would remind him for the rest of his life. His soul grew unbearably heavy and suddenly all he wanted to do was run to Nicola and cry like the child he used to be.

  
  


But that could never happen now, of course. That life was gone. 

  
  


Severus approached his father, his mind screaming. His hands itched to wrap themselves around his arrogant neck and . . . No. 

  
  


"I'm proud of you son," Cyrus Snape said. 

  
  


Severus embraced his father tightly. 

  
  


"Thanks, dad," he said. And though he never showed it, the young Severus Snape lost his grasp on his identity. To put bluntly, he snapped. It was that moment, rather than before when he received the Mark, that he became a Death Eater. 

  
  


Severus hugged his father. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


*******************************

  
  
  
  


And thus ends that little story . . . next chapter will be back on track with the main plot. By the way, it started snowing again a couple weeks ago. All rise for the singing of the Canadian National Anthem, and flee south from Wawa. Happy Halloween. 

  
  


Thanks for reviews, I love you all very much. 

  
  


Jeni

XOXOXOXO

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	14. things are looking up for our heroes!

WARNING! Okay, this chapter contains rape, not like in the other chapter, where I implied rape, this gets a bit more descriptive than I had planned, so if you can't handle it don't read it. I'm not responsible for underage minds being horribly, incurably warped. I must beg any young'uns to turn back and read something more suitably rated for their age, or I swear I'll tell your mommy on you. 

  
  


Oh, and on a lighter note, this chapter gets distinctly lemony at the end, so if such things offend you, try (a) to get your lobotomy reversed, or

(b) something PG-13

  
  
  
  


Chapter 14

  
  
  
  


Looking at him now, Viola didn't think the hurt would ever go away. Pain and humiliation were etched deep into his face. His jaw was clamped shut, as if to stop himself from talking, and he was shaking violently, like in the throes of a seizure. 

  
  


She had studied potions extensively enough throughout her schooling to recognize that he was suffering from an overdose. The recommended dosage of veritaserum is one to three drops, depending on body weight, no more. She now regretted rashly throwing the potion into the cauldron; she wasn't sure if she hadn't poisoned him. 

  
  


He fell forward, suddenly very still, and guilt washed over Viola in punishing torrents. She sighed, but felt a bit of relief. He would be fine; his body had acted naturally to repel the potion by shutting down other functions. He would remain in this sleep like state for several hours, until the veritaserum was out of his system. 

  
  


She stood for several minutes, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, nervously watching him sleep. She started to feel rather foolish soon, and realized she'd have to do something. She knew that logically she couldn't leave him there. What if he didn't wake up soon enough, and someone came in and discovered him like that? Hard to explain, certainly. Also, if she went and woke another teacher for help, she would be expelled in the blink of an eye for drugging him. She had to get him somewhere comfortable, preferably his bed, where he could sleep easier, but she had no idea where his rooms were located. 

  
  


She pondered the situation for several more very tense moments, during which Snape dozed placidly, his head resting on his arms. His deep, even breathing was nearly hypnotic, penetrating into her thoughts and lulling her into a state of tranquility. Her eyelids drooped and she yawned, now very aware of how late it was, and of how much she wanted to just sleep and leave the events of that night so far behind her . . .

  
  


The door creaked open, and she was blasted out of her dazed reverie, biting back a scream. A tiny house elf had slipped into the room, ignored Viola and the comatose professor, and proceeded to fill the wall torches with oil. She almost giggled, and tried to calm her racing heartbeat. 

  
  


His tea towel toga swung around his skinny legs as he hopped onto a stool to reach the high torches, humming to himself in a squeaky little voice as he worked. 

  
  


"Um, excuse me?" Viola whispered. 

  
  


The elf stopped his work and bowed low to her. "Can Ducky be helping you, Miss?" 

  
  


"Um, yes, actually . . ." she glanced pointedly at Snape. "Would you happen to know - "

  
  
  
  


"What is wrong with Professor Snape?" The elf scampered onto the worktable where Snape's head was resting and peered into his face. "Is the Professor asleeping?" He asked in a cutely accusing sort of voice. 

  
  


"Yes, he's sleeping. Do you know - "

  
  


"He should not sleep here." Ducky interrupted.

  
  


She strained to keep a tolerant smile on her face. "I know that. Could you tell me where - "

  
  


"He will be very sore when he wakes up." 

  
  


"Oh, who fucking cares?" She cried, sick of interruptions and frightening poor Ducky into large tears. 

  
  


"You should not be yelling, Miss." Ducky sniffled. "You'se going to wake him." 

  
  


"Listen, do you know where his rooms are?" She pleaded, as if talking to a child in a tantrum. 

  
  


"Why should I be telling you?" He stuck his tongue out at her, and she found herself uncharacteristically conspiring to kill him. 

  
  


But instead of erasing the little shit from Hogwarts grounds, she coerced that comforting smile back up to full wattage, and kept her voice soft and pleasant. "So I can put him to bed, Ducky, so he won't be sore when he wakes up." She was nearly ready to just leave him there and return to her dorm for bed, consequences be damned, but the guilt stopped her in her tracks. After all, it was her fault he was asleep, and every second she wasted in the classroom made it more likely that she would get caught out of bed, past curfew, with a Professor that she had personally rendered unconscious. And even if he wasn't awake in the morning for breakfast, at least if he was in his own rooms, there would be no evidence whatsoever that she had done anything. 

  
  


"Follow Ducky, Miss. I needs to collect the Professor's laundry," and he promptly turned and trotted out into the hallway. 

  
  


She nearly had to run to keep up with the tiny elf, levitating the limp form of the Potions Master behind her. As a frequent user of marijuana, Viola was very familiar with the sensation of paranoia. Nevertheless, the journey through the dungeons was absolutely nerve-wracking, and she was praying with all her might that Mrs. Norris was incapacitated elsewhere in the castle. 

  
  


Ducky, who really didn't seem to like Viola very much, led her strait to Snape's rooms as promised, his large, flat feet making small padding noises on the stone floor.

  
  


"Hey, Ducky," she whispered when the elf stopped outside an inconspicuous wooden door and began undoing wards. "Please, don't tell anyone about this."

  
  


"It is not the place of a house elf to tell secrets." He assured her in his adorable high-pitched voice. He opened the door, then stepped back so that she could enter first with the floating man. The lights blazed to life as soon as she crossed the threshold, and the fireplace burst into crackling flames, illuminating the large room. 

  
  


Viola gasped and almost dropped Severus onto the floor. She was where Snape lived, and it was strangely attractive. For some reason, she had always accepted the rumor ( not necessarily believing it, just not questioning it) that Snape lived in a cave, or in a dungeon cell, or something else similarly uninviting, much like the man himself. This rumor, however, was widely inaccurate.

  
  


Her bare feet sunk into deep green carpet. Near the fireplace was a sofa and two armchairs, all black leather and looking delightfully comfortable. The stone walls were nonexistent in here, instead they were covered in dark wooden paneling. Paintings were hung everywhere, as well as various university diplomas. The hearth was dark stone, and on it was displayed several candles and incense burners. The other end of the room was taken by a mahogany table and three chairs. The table, and two of the chairs, were piled high with stacks of parchment and books, ink bottles and scattered quills. Near the table, a huge grandfather clock ticked decisively away. Another surprising adornment: a grand piano sat magnificently in a corner. 

  
  


What amazed Viola was the far wall. It was taken up completely by bookshelves, from ceiling to floor. 

  
  


There were two doors on opposite sides of the large room. One was ajar, and appeared to lead into a bathroom. Ducky had disappeared through here while Viola was gawking, and was now emerging, dragging a laundry bad behind him. By the process of elimination, his bedroom must be through the other door. 

  
  


This new room was just as spectacular as his living room, but she barely looked at it. With a sigh of intense relief, she lowered him onto his bed. 

  
  


He immediately shifted his position so that he was on his side, facing her, but remained unawake. 

  
  


She would have left right away, but an unfortunate glance at his face caused her to linger. He looked so peaceful and content. So beautiful and unguarded. 

  
  


She glanced down at herself for a second, and quickly turned her wand on herself. A rapid once-over with a cleaning charm and all traces of blood were gone from her clothing, eliminating the disgusting sticky feeling in her groin. But despite her new physical cleanliness, she still felt filthy. 

  
  


Her legs shook and almost gave out. Now that she had most things sorted out, (what a long night it had been) and all other distractions gone, stress piled itself back onto her shoulders, and before she knew what she was doing she was weeping. 

  
  


Snape's story had distracted her for a while, and allowed her to think about something other than her own pain, but now that he was sleeping, that diversion, and the lines of distress on his face were gone. 

  
  


Tomorrow she would wake up in her bed, still tired, and she would have to eat breakfast in the Great Hall with the other Slytherins, gazing longingly at the Hufflepuff table and her friends who weren't really her friends anymore. And Brandon would be there, just like he always was, holding her hand, and no one would ever know what he had done to her because she had no one to tell. 

  
  


She sat down heavily on the edge of Snape's huge sleigh bed, face buried in her hands, and tried desperately to get a hold of herself. It was no use, though, and the pressure of her sobs soon became painful in her chest. The shame and disgust were now back, fresh and livid. But it was so much worse, so much more painful and humiliating because she was alone. Isolated. And she cried for this reason, wanted to scream at the top of her lungs and curl up and die for this reason. More than anything, she wanted to feel the cold metal of a razor in her hand, fell the sharp pain and see the blood. Soon, Vi, she told herself. Just get a grip. 

  
  


For the time being, she forgot where she was. Her surroundings disappeared and she was all alone in a spiraling void of despair. 

  
  


Viola was never the type of person to cry very often, and when she did it was more of a way to let everything out than feeling sorry for herself. The tears soon became purifying and healing, and by acknowledging them, she felt that maybe she would be able to (cut) cope. 

  
  


Either because of, or in spite of her break down she felt much stronger, but exhausted. Now so worn out, she didn't even flinch at the strong, comforting hand on her back, only leaned more comfortably into the embrace. 

  
  
  
  


Snape had been floating, disembodied, through his dreams. Memories and images of things that never happened drifted through and around him, soundless and haunting, eliciting strange responses and arousals. He could feel the veritaserum coursing through his veins, and in a strange, ethereal sort of way he could see it. The blood vessels in his closed eyelids were shot with streaks of silver, still eliminating all rumination and intensifying urge and impulse alike.

  
  


Then there was a sound cutting through his dreams, sharp and morose, reminding him of his childhood for some reason. 

  
  


He was dragged unwillingly from his sleep, and was slowly confronted with a number of real sensations. Without opening his eyes, his other senses told him that he was in his own place, on his bed. It made some sense to kick off his boots, so he did. 

  
  


He would have loved to just go back to sleep, but the noise would not allow it. As he became more alert, he was able to associate the continuous racket with something real. Someone was crying. Crying hard, to, and for a long time, if the hiccoughs and gasping breath were any indication. 

  
  


Through slightly opened eyes he saw a black robed back and a messy blond head. Viola.

  
  


Normally he would have been quite angry to find a student in his rooms, on his bed, and (God Forbid) keeping him awake. But perhaps it's proof that Severus Snape is only human, this was not his first consideration. 

  
  


Hopelessly drugged, he was forced to do the first and only thing he really wanted, but would never allow himself to do otherwise. He lifted one heavy arm, and placed his hand on the small of her back. He thought he heard her sigh then, but thought he must have imagined it. He would never be able to explain, though, what happened next. All he ever knew was that it was perfect, and that night he slept better than any other time in his life. She leaned back slightly into him, and his hand circled from her back around her waist, pulling her gently against him. 

  
  


He fell asleep then, as soon as she had relaxed next to him, cozy in the warmth of his body. Soon, she also drifted off into a blissfully dreamless sleep. 

  
  
  
  


*********************************

  
  
  
  


Brandon Carter was in very lofty good spirits that evening, after he had sent Viola dazedly back to her dorm with a touch of Imperius. He was done with her for the time being, and didn't feel like looking at her until the morning came around. He had damaged her, and he knew it. And with a sick sort of curiosity he discovered that ever since the day he had bitten passionately through her lip, he had been craving the taste of her blood. He had been mad for it, after he had spent himself so roughly inside her, and caught the scent of claret oozing from her wrists where the restraints had cut into her skin. Before he knew what he was doing, he was lapping it up like a crazed animal, savoring the metallic flavor of her life. 

  
  


Her body was limp and pliant underneath him. She was conscious, but just barely. She was reeling in a state of shock and pain, unable to fight him anymore. Her eyes were blurred with tears. She couldn't see him, or anything, just the foggy, grey mist of an enigma; unsolvable and terrifying in its confusion. 

  
  


Her inability to respond to him physically was less of a problem for him now. Now that he knew he had power over her, power to force her to do anything he wanted. He was satisfied with that. So what if she didn't want to kiss him? All he had to do was hit her a couple times in the right spot and he could fuck her at his leisure. Some physical bindings and a wave of his wand were all it took to render her helpless, and that was just how he liked her. Any guilt he may have felt was overshadowed by indemnification, because now she belonged to him completely. And for Brandon Carter, the ends definitely justify the means. 

  
  


After clearing the blood from her spiritless arms he looked at her lovely face, now battered and swollen from his injurious fists. He liked the way she looked now better than before, because now no one else could find her attractive, and he wouldn't have to worry about keeping those other assholes away from her. Not that it was hard work; he barely had to do anything to get rid of that jackass Randy, but he was sure eventually some guy would come along and . . .

  
  


He didn't want to think about that. Viola was his, he owned her since the second he tore through her virginity, and no one could take her. He would never allow it. 

  
  


He idly puffed a cigarette, pinching her nipples until they were purple and bruised, thinking in an offhand sort of way that it was a shame she had such small breasts. Her whimpers of distress caused him to become aroused again, and before the pain could make her any more alert he stabbed inside her again, crying out louder than she did the fist time he penetrated her. Her cervix was slick with blood, but not enough to diminish the burning sensation Brandon was subjected to. He didn't mind the pain so much though, in fact, he sort of enjoyed it. 

  
  


A few moments later he pulled out of her and gripped his cock tightly to the point of pain, and shot semen onto her stomach and breasts with a degenerative grunt. His cum was flecked with bits of her blood, and just the sight of her covered with it made him salivate. She looked like some sort of wanton whore, spread eagled and damp with his sweat and semen. 

  
  


She didn't look too innocent anymore. He had to admit, it was a pleasurable change. 

  
  


************************

  
  


Viola woke in a state of utter contentment. She was laying on her side, on a navy blue duvet on a very soft bed. Facing her, also on his side, was Severus Snape, sleeping like he hadn't done so in years. Her face was only an inch from his chest, and she found herself falling in love with his scent all over again. An arm was draped heavily over her, and a leg was tangled intimately with her own. 

  
  


Feeling completely comfortable and not wanting to ask herself why, she snuggled closer to him, basking in the warmth from his body. 

  
  


Hard to believe that her life had begun to spin so completely out of control . . . less than twelve hours ago. It seemed like years ago that she had followed Brandon into his dorm, but the reality remained the same. Last night she was raped, and the only thing that gave her strength to open her eyes now was the fact that she had not hurt herself afterwards in order to cope with the harmful afterthoughts of being subjected to that sickening act. 

  
  


She had wanted to, oh gods she had ached for a razor to open the skin on her arms. But now that she had things in a bit more perspective she felt better knowing that she didn't cut herself, that she didn't deserve any more anguish for a while. 

  
  


Straining her eyes, she saw an alarm clock on the bedside table. It was six o clock. . . . Was it Sunday morning? Yes, that was right. Still early, and no need to get up just yet and wake him so abruptly. They had only gotten about five hours of sleep, and she started to drift off again . . .

  
  


Severus was dreaming, and as soon as Viola fell asleep beside him for a second time she joined him also in his dreams, which changed abruptly in nature from nightmares to something much more agreeable. 

  
  


She invaded his senses and turned away the darkness that besieged his mind, leaving both of them alone and warm outside in the sun. 

  
  


He could smell her scent on the light breeze, mingled with the sweet smell of grass and fresh running water. They were in the forbidden forest, and judging from the position of the sun above them it was around noon. Sunlight streamed through the trees in beams of gold, driving away shadows that made the forest such a frightening place at night. 

  
  


Looking around, he knew exactly where he was. This was the place where he came to harvest many potion ingredients he used in his classroom. Deadly Nightshade, wolfsbane, and lemongrass grew in abundance, and the smell of citrus was constantly wafting through the air. 

  
  


Seated by the clear, cool stream was Viola, dressed in the beautiful green dress she had worn to Christmas dinner. The dress she was wearing when he had really touched her for the first time. He looked down at his dream form, and was mildly surprised to see that he was wearing white, instead of his habitual black robes. His clothing was loose fitting and delightfully comfortable, billowing out around him in the warm wind.

  
  


"Severus," Viola said softly, seemingly by way of greeting, and he made his was calmly toward her, sitting on the waving grass beside her. 

  
  


Immediately she reached for him, and he obliged her by embracing her in his arms, taking her mouth in a heated, passionate kiss. 

  
  


He fully understood the manner of this dream now. Oh yes, he had had them before. And as much as he hated to admit, many of them since Christmas had indeed starred Viola Rienne in deliciously inappropriate roles. But this one was made so much more welcome because he really could smell Viola's perfume, a unique blend of vanilla and coconut, as he buried his face in the curve of her neck, both in the vivid dream and in real life as he slept deeply beside her. 

  
  


In his dream she moaned, arching into him provocatively. She moved to straddle him, but the long dress proved too cumbersome to be maneuvered in that way. So, naturally, being the gentleman that he was, he helped her remove it. 

  
  


The cloth tousled her hair as he pulled it off over her head, and she finally sat astride him, beautifully naked and blushing with arousal. Their eye contact was intense, their breathing heavy and rhythmic. His hands finally remembered how to move and he cupped her breasts. They were small, he thought, but perfect, and he rubbed around her nipples with his thumbs. 

  
  


She gasped at the sudden stimulation and arched her back again. His mouth moved to one breast and drew the tight peak into his mouth, nipping gently and then sucking harder. She ground her hips into his, and his arousal was making itself evident as much in real life as it was in the dream, pressing into her in both locations. 

  
  


In real life, Severus had partly rolled over onto her, but had not woken her up. What did wake her was the sudden presence of his erection against her thigh, and a soft moan in her ear. His arm, which had been thrown limply over her before, was now holding her closer to him with such gentle need she felt like weeping again. 

  
  


In the dream he was teasing her. One hand continued to knead her breast while the other delved into her slick folds, spreading the moisture there onto the insides of her thighs. Her hands were in his hair, and now it was she who was kissing him, with almost enough force to bruise his mouth. She bit his lower lip then sucked it into her mouth, stifling a cry when he plunged two fingers into her and scissored them, inflaming the sensitive walls of her tight passage. 

  
  


Outside of this blissful dream, he involuntarily rubbed his hardness against her leg and murmured something into her neck which sent shivers down her spine in that wonderful way, but which she did not understand. 

  
  


"Do you like this, Viola?" He said to her in the dream, and indeed had mumbled it into the pulse of her throat in the waking world. He pinched her nipple, while at the same time circling her swollen pearl with skilled fingers. 

  
  


He was feeling delirious with lust at this point, his erection almost painful with a need for release and straining against white fabric in one world, black in another. 

  
  


In one world, with the sun making her short hair shine like gold, he rolled so that she was laying in the grass and he was hovering over top, staring down at her in awe and adoration. He pulled his shirt off and tossed it aside, only breaking eye contact with her to pull it over his head.

  
  


"What do you want, Viola?" He asked her, his voice unusually husky as he divested himself of the baggy pants, naked and unembarrassed in this perfect fancy. 

  
  


She spoke the words she had spoken so many times before in so many of his dreams. Spoke them with love and longing and their mutual thirst for each other. "I want you, Severus." 

  
  


He moved his weight onto his elbows and positioned himself between her legs, the tip of his cock pressing into her entrance, making her gasp and writhe. Her hand reached between them and gripped his erection, guiding it further inside her. 

  
  


"Take me . . ." She groaned, pulling him closer until all he could feel was the sweet friction of skin on skin, so hot and unbelievably ambrosial that he was nearly undone.

  
  


In another world, where he was stretched out on his velvet duvet, nearly completely on top of the object of his desire, his sleep became less absorbed. He began to wake up, and the lines that separated fiction from reality began to blur. The nude, flushed Viola imploring him to make love to her evaporated and became fully clothed and apprehensive, unsure of how to react to everything that was going on. 

  
  


He continued to murmur nonsense and sensual moans into her neck, while at the same time gently rocking his hips against her pelvis. She knew he was asleep and dreaming, but it was arousing in a way she didn't quite understand. Her nipples tightened and became more perceptive to even the slightest touch of her robe. 

  
  


Before she could really comprehend the sensations he was provoking, she acted on them, and pushed her hips into his, grinding against his cock through the fabric of their clothing, wanting to intensify the heat gathering between her legs. 

  
  


He awoke fully when he felt her hands on his head and soft breath on his ear; the lovely, erotic sigh of an aroused woman. Finally, he lifted his head and looked at her. Really looked, for the first time, into her eyes, and noticed that they weren't just brown, as he had first thought. The irises were rimmed with black and flecked with bits of gold and rust, and as he continued to stare at her, showing no sign of looking away, those magnetic eyes clouded with nervousness. 

  
  


She swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump forming in her throat and spoke. "What were you dreaming about?" she asked, anxiously running a hand through his hair.

  
  


"You." He answered softly, without any hesitation and she realized that he was most definitely still drugged with veritaserum. His answer, however, carried a lot of implications considering their current position. He remained poised over her for a split second longer, before he was carried away once again by an overwhelming desire to be close to her. 

  
  


Severus kissed her. 

  
  
  
  


***********************

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	15. we can all see your ass Sev

Disclaimer: you know what? I'm sick of disclaimers. I own everything: Hogwarts, Snape, everything in the Harry Potter universe I myself own. 

That kind of talk's gonna have me in jail . . . therefore I own nothing. I also do not own " . . . a powder keg set to go off in an explosion of unacceptable behavior." I stole that clever line from an episode of The Simpsons, and a million points to your house if you can remember who said it. 

  
  
  
  


Chapter 15

  
  


You make me hard when I'm all soft inside

I see the truth when I'm all stupid-eyed 

the arrow goes straight through my heart 

Without you everything just falls apart.

  
  


My blood wants to say hello to you 

my fears want to get inside of you 

my soul is so afraid to realize 

How very little good is left of me.

  
  


And I want you. . . .

  
  


You are the perfect drug . . . 

-Nine Inch Nails.

  
  


*************************

  
  
  
  


Viola was melting. Never, not even in her most private and personal fantasies, had she imagined that her Potions teacher could feel so . . . perfect. Their bodies fit together like two matching puzzle pieces, and the heat growing between them was like a powder keg set to go off in an explosion of unacceptable behavior. 

  
  


His hands snaked down to hers and his long graceful fingers entwined with her smaller ones. 

  
  


Though Severus had to admit he was enjoying himself considerably, the time had indeed come to fight through the fog of veritaserum that was clouding his judgement and gain the upper hand. He had to accomplish this before he was completely undone and did something that would lose him a lot more than his job. So far, Viola had proven herself to be quite the cunning little vixen, manipulative and resourceful as any Slytherin, but Severus knew he still had a definite advantage. 

  
  


Viola was writhing, gasping, nearly sobbing with arousal and need. She didn't even know what she was feeling; she had never experienced this sort of lust, and it was confusing in its intensity. She had almost completely lost the ability to think when he tightened his grip on her hands, pulling them up over her head and pinning her in place. 

  
  


She struggled for a second or two, suddenly a bit scared of the man bearing down on her. She could not dislodge her wrists from his grip though, and his weight, resting between her legs, would not allow her any movement. 

  
  


"Do you like this, Viola?" his voice was a low growl and he ground his pelvis into hers, eliciting a whimper of reluctant pleasure. She was horribly reminded of being tied down to Brandon's bed, except this time . . . oh gods this time the helplessness and submission was good. She wanted this man to touch her, to take her. She felt his searing hardness between them, pressing into her abdomen urgently. "Do you like that I can't stop?" He dropped a number of scorching kisses on her exposed neck, deftly undoing three buttons of her shirt with one hand, keeping her wrists held firm with the other. 

  
  


The unfastened buttons revealed the curve of her small breasts and a peek at her bra. With his face so close, kissing and teasing her sensitive skin, he could smell the sweet perfume she had applied between her breasts sometime the day before. 

  
  


"Oh gods, Professor . . ." she breathed softly. 

  
  
  
  


He stopped his applications and stared down at her again. His long hair hung down around them, reminding Viola of the black velvet drapes around her four-poster bed. How can his eyes be so black? She wondered to herself. Truly, there was no indication that his iris and pupils were separate entities. His eyes were like cold onyx, so unlike anything she had ever seen before. He stared at her for so long in silence that she began to wonder if she had said something wrong. Should she have called him Severus perhaps? It hardly seemed appropriate to call one's professor by their first name, but there wasn't many things that were appropriate about the present situation. 

  
  


"It's time you answered something for me, Miss Rienne." He murmured, and she shivered at the ominous tone as he said her name. He captured her mouth for one more hard, probing kiss, then got up entirely, leaving her alone on the bed, breathless and perplexed. "Understand," he continued, "I expect the truth from you, as you have been given it from me." 

  
  


She nodded, following him with her eyes as he paced about the room. Only now she realized that she hadn't actually gotten the entire truth from him the night before, only half of it. Perchance, if she had been more conservative with the veritaserum, he would not have suffered an overdose. Then she would know his story entirely, but for now all she could do was hope he would finish his tale eventually. 

  
  


She waited for him to speak. Instead, he shocked her by removing his robes, followed closely by his vest and slightly rumpled shirt. He stood at the foot of the bed, watching her watch him, in only his trousers. Her eyes widened alarmingly, and he smirked inwardly. 

  
  


Finally his advantage had emerged. He wanted to laugh out loud at how easy it had been, but wasn't that always the way it went? She was in such a state that he wouldn't be surprised if she leapt off the Astronomy Tower at the slightest suggestion from him. Women were all the same in certain aspects, he thought. And this seventh year Slytherin was definitely a woman, not a mere girl as he used to think. She sat up to watch him better, leaning back on her arms. He didn't think that she was aware that her shirt was half open, since she made no move to cover herself. 

  
  


He strode across the room again to his armoire, and began rooting through drawers. "Viola, what brought you to my classroom last night?" he asked, not even bothering to look at her. He had been struck with a desire to change out of his clothes, which were uncomfortable and wrinkled from sleeping. 

  
  


"I . . ." She shook her head, trying not to look at him while she thought about an answer. "I needed a healing potion." Oh, how brilliant Vi, you're a fucking genius. All in all though, she thought she had a right to be rendered speechless. After all, it was a very attractive chest. Lean and firm, with an adorable trail of dark hair around his navel, leading down to disappear beneath his trousers. 

  
  


"Yes, and a dreamless sleep potion as well. I saw that." He pulled a dark grey sweater from the drawer and pulled it on, disarranging his hair in the process. "Why did you need these things?" he sounded impatient, like he was in his classroom trying to wrestle a correct answer out of some dim-witted student.

  
  


She opened her mouth to answer, but slammed it shut again when he unbuckled his belt and kicked off his trousers completely. Black silk boxers followed, and she had a fair view of his backside before new boxers and a pair of black jeans found their way onto him. She had never seen a man's buttocks, naked and rather close up, but she thought his was in quite good shape. She had no idea, however, why he was changing in front of her like that. 

  
  


Severus had to admit that he had no idea either, other than that he found her facial expressions impossibly humorous. A credit to his considerably perverse sense of humor, perhaps. And surprisingly, he felt no shame about his nudity in her presence.

  
  


At last Viola remembered that he had asked her a question, and found her voice. "I had a bit of an accident . . ." She said lamely. 

  
  


In an instant he was on the bed again, both hands on the duvet on either side of her, leaning forward in an intimidating fashion, enough to make her lie back down in fright. 

  
  


"Don't take me for an idiot, Miss Rienne." He hissed menacingly. "What I'm really asking is why you were in my class, of all places, smelling of sex and blood."

  
  


She shuddered and looked away from his face, blushing crimson with shame. Severus regretted his crude description immediately, and since it was impossible for him to hide what he was feeling, he apologized to her. 

  
  


"Pardon?" she asked, looking up at him again with mild surprise. 

  
  


"I said sorry." He mumbled, getting up again. This wouldn't do. She wasn't a Death Eater female and he couldn't bring himself to treat her like one. He couldn't tease and seduce her into telling him what he wanted. Well, actually, he had no doubt that he could if he wanted to, but it was undeniable that even Severus Snape was not cruel enough to use her like that. 

  
  


He left the bedroom without another word, and she slid off the bed to follow him. She heard the fire in the magnificent sitting room blaze to life again as he crossed the doorway. He walked quickly to the exit and opened it, turning to watch her approach. She walked slowly, unhappily, with the realization that he wanted her to leave. 

  
  


"I imagine I should thank you for not leaving me in the classroom." He said quietly, waiting for her to reach the door. 

  
  


"Professor, I'm sorry I gave you the veritaserum." Viola stammered, her eyes meeting his at last. She seemed to have gotten over her disconcertion over their encounter, or so it seemed, at least. He thought hard for a minute, then apparently made a decision, and closed the door. He faced her squarely.

  
  


"I'm sorry you had to learn such awful things about me." He told her in all honesty. 

  
  


"I've wanted to learn more about you all year." She blushed again. 

  
  


"Tell me what happened to you." He demanded softly. The only source of light in the room was the fireplace, and he rather enjoyed the way it flickered across her skin, causing her to glow radiantly. 

  
  


Unfortunately, she was noticing the same effect on his pale complexion, and was at a loss for words. She simply shook her head sadly, and he seemed to understand that she would not tell him what had happened. When it became impossible for him to look at her a second longer without taking her back to bed, he reluctantly opened the door once again. 

  
  


She tried to walk past him into the dark, gloomy hallway, bu he stopped her with a strong hand on her stomach. She didn't say a word, only smiled so slightly when he brushed his lips over hers. The kiss was chaste, sweet and lingering, and over far too quickly for Viola's liking.

  
  


He broke the kiss hesitantly. Glancing down, he broke into the first pleasant smile she had ever seen on his face. "Button your shirt," he murmured. "People will think we're having an affair." 

  
  


And with that he closed the door, leaving her to sort out her buttons somewhere between his door and her dormitory. 

  
  


*******************************

  
  


Severus had come to a very grand conclusion while in the shower that day. He decided that anything that happened between him and Viola in his imagination was nothing to be ashamed about whatsoever. So he had a few erotic fantasies about a student, so what? It's not as if the girl was twelve years old. She was of legal age, and apparently not unwilling. She certainly showed no aversion to his . . . attentions, in his bedroom. 

  
  


Another grand conclusion came in the shower that morning. He leaned his weight heavily on one hand, braced on the wall. Hot water poured down his shoulders and back matting his hair down in his face. He would have swept the strands away with a sweep of his hand, had it not been busy. 

  
  


He gritted his teeth against the moan that threatened to escape him. Visions of Viola's sweet mouth enthralled him as he fisted his cock with almost violent urgency. His climax was such a beautiful release, so intense he was hardly able to keep his footing. Breathing hard, he waited for his vision to clear and his mind to become steady, wishing fervently that he had not sent her away. 

He turned off the water and stepped onto cold linoleum. 

  
  


"I haven't seen you smile like that in weeks," the wall mirror spoke up in a grating, feminine voice. 

  
  


"Shut up." He said, more out of habit than malice toward the inanimate object. The damn thing just never stopped talking. 

  
  


"You look like you just got laid." The mirror giggled.

  
  


"Is that so?" he lathered up and began shaving, forced to stare directly into the source of his aggravation. 

  
  


"But it can't be true." More giggling. 

  
  


"And why not?" He winced when he accidentally cut himself with the razor. 

  
  


"I'd have heard the screams." Severus was quite tempted to smash it. Instead, he rinsed the extra shaving foam from his face and went into his sitting room. 

  
  


Hogwarts had a great many well-kept secrets. Secrets that could never be allowed into the light of day. One of these secrets happened to be that evil, odious Professor Snape enjoyed walking around his rooms, stark naked, in the morning. 

  
  


He quickly conjured a cup of tea, and as he drank it something occurred to him. The story he had been forced to reveal to Viola was incomplete. Thank the gods for a veritaserum overdose, he thought. The rest of that story was something he'd just as soon not tell anyone. Even Dumbledore was largely in the dark about what had caused him to decide no be a spy. He had asked Snape on several occasions, of course, but he had simply refused to tell it. 

  
  


He sat down on one end of the sofa, sipping his tea and watching the smoke from his incense curl and float toward the ceiling reflectively. He knew Albus suspected that he suffered a drastic change of heart, or some awful tragedy that drove him away from the dark lord. Sometimes Snape wished it had been that, but alas, it wasn't so. 

  
  


It had been pure chance. He wasn't wistful enough to call it fate, perhaps it was simply cowardice.

  
  


It was only his third year of being a Death Eater. He had never killed anyone before, and certainly had never been trusted with so important a task. 

  
  


"You have so much potential, Severus." Cyrus Snape had insisted. It was a frightening conversation between father and son, presided over by Voldemort. 

  
  


"Your father insists that you are the best for the job" Tom Riddle said in a low voice to the scared young man. 

  
  


"I can't do it." He persisted, but to no avail. They were going to send him. He just knew it. 

  
  


"You can and you will!" Cyrus bellowed, and stormed away. 

  
  


Severus turned his supplication to Voldemort. "Don't send me Lord, send my brothers, Mason or Julian, they are much more experienced than I am." He hung his head. "It's too much responsibility. I'll fail and he'll kill me."

  
  


"Your brothers don't possess any of your aptitude, boy." A long, bony hand squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "Your father is right. You won't fail. Look at me, Severus Snape, I know what you want, and I promise that you'll get it if you do this." 

  
  


Snape pried his eyes off the ground and aimed his dismal gaze into his master's terrifying eyes. He was hoping against hope that he would not have to go through with what they were asking of him, but he knew now that he would go through with it.

  
  


Voldemort spoke one last time. "Go home. Brew the potion, and kill Albus Dumbledore."

  
  


A sudden chill shook Snape out of his memories and back into reality, where sitting around nude had become very chilly business indeed. He summoned his clothes from the floor of his bathroom, where he had left them in his haste to get in the shower. 

  
  


As he dressed again, he marveled at how lucky he had been to survive that task. After receiving the order from Voldemort he returned to the sparsely furnished flat he shared with his brothers. Living arrangements he happened to violently hate, but at the time there was no other choice. 

  
  


Locked securely in his room, he prepared to brew the most complicated potion he had ever attempted. It had no actual name, so he called it 'Avada Kedavra in a bottle'. Basically, any amount of the potion would kill the drinker instantly, and would be impossible to detect upon autopsy, magical or muggle. Perfect for the assassination of an old man such as Dumbledore; it would seem as if he had died of natural causes, as old men are likely to do.

  
  
  
  


He worked all night without rest, and only when the dawn's first light crept in through his window was he finished. Exhausted, he fell into bed. The last thing he saw before sleep took him was the tiny vial on his worktable, full of joyless black liquid, so inconspicious yet so fatal.

  
  


He slept throughout the day, despite his brothers' attempts to rouse him, and woke only when the light outside was beginning to fade. Despite them also being Death Eaters, none of his brothers were aware of Snape's tremendous responsibility. He ignored their probing questions about his work, and simply pocketed the vial and walked out of the flat. 

  
  


The streets of London were cold and unforgiving toward Severus, all bundled up in a long overcoat. He hated the city, hated having to live there and hated that he no longer had nay friends. Oh, Lucius was always turning up at the flat with bottles of this and baggies of that, but Severus had stopped trusting his only schoolfriend nearly as soon as he had gotten his dark mark. 

  
  


He kicked bitterly at a stone in the lane. Weren't friends supposed to help you out? All Lucius had ever really done was lure him into the worst situation he could ever have imagined fro himself. All the partying in the world would never make up for how lonely and isolated Severus felt, even when surrounded by Death Eaters. 

  
  


After stopping at a restaurant to force some food into himself, Severus ceased his random meandering sometime after midnight. He decided that it was as good a time as any, and with that thought he disapparated. 

  
  


He would have apparated right into the house, but wards similar to those protecting Hogwarts prevented him from doing so. The first thing that he noticed about his new location was a white picket fence surrounding a spacious yard. How delightfully metaphorical, he thought with some cynicism, peering through the darkness to further take in details. The house was large and rambling, with a homely stone chimney bright flower beds. The property was bordered with tall apple trees, and the place looked rather cheery despite the gloom of night. 

  
  


So, this is where Dumbledore spends his summers.

  
  


Severus dared not open the gate to enter the yard, in case in creaked. He was paranoid that any noise, no matter how small, would give him away. Employing stealth he didn't know he possessed, he leapt silently over the fence. 

  
  


Landing in a low crouch on the soft grass, he looked wildly for an entrance to the house. 

  
  


He very quickly began to amaze himself with his proficiency at getting through to the house. He disarmed wards, picked locks, restrained house elves, and navigated a safe entry without making the slightest noise or indiction of his presence. He snaked through Dumbledore's home with cunning patience and skill. 

  
  


He began to think that his father was right about him. Perhaps he was suited to be an assassin, he certainly had mastered the subtle grace it took to complete the task efficiently. 

  
  


This thought gave him a little surge of satisfaction. Cyrus was right not to send Mason or Gabriel or Julian, this was the one thing Severus could do better than all his brothers combined. 

  
  


He slithered up a flight of stairs, walking as close to the wall as possible to avoid any telltale creaking. He kept his hand in his pocket the entire time. The vial was an anchor, keeping him completely on task. It was a grim reminder, but it gave him courage to know that he was doing a good job, and his reward was coming. 

  
  


He stepped lightly through a doorway and found himself in a dark, large room. Moonlight came in dreamily though an open window. Gauzy curtains fluttered lazily in the warm breeze, matching the translucent hangings around the large bed that stood at the far end of the bedroom. 

  
  


His stomach became tight and all courage left him. Albus Dumbledore was sleeping not ten feet away from where he was standing.

  
  


Silent as a ghost, Severus seemed to drift to the side of the bed. Through the curtain he saw the grizzled face of his old headmaster. 

  
  


For some reason Severus would never understand, seeing Dumbledore asleep seemed to contradict everything the old man was. Laying there, looking rather fragile, Severus was amazed at how easy it would be to kill him. So simple, the work of a moment. His sweaty hand clutched the vial and drew it out of the pocket, removing the wax stopper with a flick of his thumb. 

  
  


Just a drop past the lips and he would be dead. No one would ever know it was him, and he would get anything he wanted in return. 

  
  


He swallowed hard, fighting a sudden urge to vomit. He brought the open end of the vial to Dumbledore's lips (just do it Sev kill him and you'll finally get what you want so bad . . .) And tilted it, ready to pour the sooty potion down his mentors throat . . . 

  
  


(Kill him.)

  
  


He hesitated (I can't, oh gods I can't do it . . .) and pulled his hand back. 

  
  
  
  


That one second of hesitation broke him completely. A strangled cry tore out of him as he turned tail to run, knocking over an armchair that he hadn't seen in the darkness. He sprawled on the carpet and flung the vial into the wall. It shattered, splashing poison everywhere. 

  
  


Dumbledore was awakened by the sound immediately, and he heaved himself out of bed, groping in his night stand for his wand. He only saw the back of the intruder's overcoat before he disappeared into the hallway, no longer taking care to be noiseless.

  
  


He crashed into a large vase in the hallway, and as he went flying down the stairs in a racket of breaking glass every light in the house seemed to have turned on. He landed hard on the floor, and the breath was struck out of him in a long gust. The light was bright and offensive to his eyes, which had been adjusted to the darkness. He lay there, in pain from head to toe, crying pitifully, for surely now he had reached the end of his life. 

  
  


He heard Dumbledore walking slowly down the stair, avoiding the broken glass, wand held ready. Severus wanted Albus to kill him. It would be better than getting killed by Voldemort or Cyrus for failing. He only prayed that it would be fast, for he had no desire to defend himself against the man who had saved him once, so many years ago. 

  
  


"Who are you?" the old man's voice was harsh. 

  
  


Severus pulled himself into a sitting position, looking up at the Headmaster with eyes swollen from weeping. The look of disappointment on his old mentor's face was too much to take in, and he looked back down at the floor. 

  
  


"Severus?" he looked let down and sad. "What are you doing here?"

  
  


Severus felt like a child again, intimidated in the presence of such an authority figure. Dumbledore looked like he did before giving detentions to unruly students, but this time the consequences would be so much more grave. 

  
  


Unable to tell anything but the truth, Severus answered, "I came here to kill you." He hugged his knees to his chest and tried to sink into the folds of his coat. 

  
  


"Then you failed, my boy." His voice softened. He took a seat on the bottom stair, setting down his wand. 

  
  


"Gods, I know." 

  
  


"Who sent you here?"

  
  


Severus just looked at him, not sure where his loyalties should lie at this point. 

  
  


"Don't make me force an answer out of you." The words were gentle, but the underlying threat was quite clear. 

  
  
  
  


"Voldemort sent me." 

  
  


"And what will happen if you go back?"

  
  


"He'll kill me for sure. Not that I really have to worry." He said bitterly, indicating the wand Dumbledore possessed.

  
  


Surprisingly, the old man laughed quietly. "You can stop that, Severus, I'm not going to kill you."

  
  


"Then I might as well scrape some of that potion off your bedroom wall, cause I won't let that . . . monster . . . kill me." A chill shook his entire body at the thought of the kind of torture he would have to endure before sweet death would be allowed to claim him. 

  
  


"Enough of that now," he looked grave. "I knew the day you graduated from my school where you were going, and I knew I would see you in this position someday, wretched and lost, like you were when I carried you to Hogwarts when you were fifteen."

  
  


"You were always such a smart boy, Severus. I don't want to know what made you take the mark, or what you have done in these past three years. All I want to know is what you plan to do from now on."

  
  


"Probably rot, since I'll be dead." 

  
  


"Still sarcastic are you? Good. You're still mostly yourself then. Tell me, how did you get here?" 

  
  


The change of subject confused Severus, but he saw no harm in telling the truth.

  
  


"I apparated."

  
  


"I mean, how did you get into my house?" 

  
  


"Through the door."

  
  


"What about my wards? Locks? The elves and all my security?"

  
  


"Disarmed, unlocked, restrained very creatively, and all in all not too difficult." Dumbledore remained silent, so he added, "No offense intended against your security." Some of his confidence was returning. He couldn't yet see it, but there was something good approaching, a solution, somehow he could sense it. 

  
  


"Where did you learn these skills?" The old man asked finally, looking thoughtful.

  
  


"Nowhere." He became suddenly bitter. "I'm just a fucking natural born killer."

  
  


Dumbledore had a calculating look on his wrinkled face. "Or a spy." He said. 

  
  


And everything seemed to be solved from there. Severus defected instantaneously, and Dumbledore brought him to Hogwarts to meet with the Order of the Phoenix, a group of aurors and anti-ministry activists. He was welcomed there with open arms, seemingly just what they needed to turn the tide in the war against Voldemort. 

  
  


The next day he returned to the Death Eaters, claiming to have done something better than eliminating Dumbledore. 

  
  


"If he dies, they'll just replace him!" He claimed vehemently. "I can get us information on their defenses and strategies." He returned to them with confidence he didn't really feel, boasting about his new position of trust at Dumbledore's side.

  
  


"Why didn't you kill him?" Voldemort looked livid at first.

  
  


"He was awake when I arrived, lord, and was expecting me when I entered the house. Luckily, I thought quickly and told him I was there to desert the Death Eaters."

  
  


No one could prove him wrong, because he was all of a sudden an apprentice teacher at Hogwarts, and he was still alive, so it was obvious that whatever had transpired between the Headmaster and the would-be assassin had worked in Snape's favor. 

  
  


Severus started teaching with a new interest in his life. There was no telling what the future would bring him as a spy. No doubt there would be excitement and very likely there would be death eventually, and he harbored no illusions whatsoever as to the fact that he had no control over the things that were going to happen to him. 

  
  


In the future, while he was on his way to the kitchens to get a late breakfast, he was struck with a feeling of deja vu. It wasn't a feeling he particularly liked, but it held the same premonition as it did before. 

  
  


Things were going to get rather complicated, and quite soon if he was guessing correctly. 

  
  


**********************************

  
  


Oh, how long has it been? So long. Maybe I aught to lay off the drugs for a while, then I can get something done . . . but like that's ever gonna happen. 

Love ya all

Jeni

XOXOOXOXOXOXO

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	16. a mushroomic adventure

With April 20th approaching again, I can't help but notice that I have been writing this story on and off for over a year. Truthfully, I'm amazed that I've made it this far without forgetting about the whole damn thing. I'm gonna try really hard to finish it for you guys. 

Disclaimer: I think by now you all know what's mine and what's hers. 

Warning: masturbation and drug use. It's not gonna kill ya, but just so you're warned. . .

  
  


Chapter 16

  
  


Never had the Slytherin Dormitory been so kind to Viola. It seemed that not a single student was awake in the entire dungeon, and she was able to creep into bed without anyone noticing that she had been missing. 

  
  


Normally she would have showered first thing in the morning, but she was slightly euphoric, and suspected that a shower would eliminate the sensation. A rather foolish notion, but she didn't want to risk it. 

  
  


She located her wand and put a ward for quiet around her bed. She couldn't contain the noise too much longer, she had to laugh or scream or do something very LOUD. "Danica you fucking skank!" she cried, testing the strength of the charm once she was hidden inside the curtains of her bed. 

  
  


When no threatening backlash assaulted her ears, she let out a wild peal of laughter. It was impossible to contain. She had to do something to alleviate the sexual tension left in her body. Slowly, with the apprehension of one who is very new to the concept of physical pleasure, she slid her hand inside her robes. She knew that people did this all the time, god knows the girls she shared a room with were not as adept at their silencing charms. She just didn't know how they went about it. But, being a hedonist at heart, as all people her age tend to be, she decided to simply go with what felt best. 

  
  


Her legs opened slightly of their own accord as her hand sought the point of heat between them. She touched herself through her panties, hesitantly at first, but soon with added enthusiasm. The thin white cotton was soon soaked through, and she removed them to gain better access to herself.

  
  


The thought of Snape was never far from her mind; she only wished it could have been his hand, instead of her own, stroking and exploring her. 

  
  


There was something so different though, so intimately lonely, about what she was doing. This was better, so much better, than any sort of abuse she had even committed against her own body. But there, THERE was the release, the abandonment of stress and over-emotion that she achieved with cutting, only with this there was no pain. 

  
  


She reached deeper into herself, discovering parts of her body she had never guessed at before. Who knew the human body was capable of such pleasurable sensations? 

  
  


She wondered if Snape, or perhaps Severus now, was doing the same thing, and the thought threatened to drive her mad. He was definitely as aroused as she had been when he sent her away, she felt it when he kissed her. Her stomach tightened into a knot; she had felt it pressed into her abdomen before she left. Perhaps he was at that very moment touching himself, bringing himself to orgasm, simultaneous with her own, with her thought in his head. She realized she wanted to see him like that. She wanted to see his face break out of it's usual indifferent mask when he came. She imagined his beautiful hands roving over his body. 

  
  


Her own hand quickened dramatically, dipping into the slick, swollen flesh with two small fingers. He had been thinking of her, dreaming of her. She had made him lose control for wanting her. Never had she felt so empowered, so feminine and so beautiful. She felt her self-esteem swell at the thought: Severus Snape wanted her. The fact that she used veritaserum on him mattered very little, the reality still remained that he found her attractive.

  
  


Later, when she finally got around to having a shower, a very sudden epiphany hit her. It was so very important, so unable to avoid, that she talk to Gwendolen. She hadn't spoken to her since Christmas, but knew that Gwenny could never be angry with her. It was her own isolation, and correlation to Brandon, that had kept her from her friends for so long. 

  
  


It was still too early for either Randy or Brianna to be awake, and she was thankful for this. She didn't think that she could bear a confrontation with her old best friend in her state of mind. Better to just find Gwenny. So with wet hair and an eye open for Brandon, she made her way outside the school, and down a snowy path to the greenhouses. 

  
  


The day was chilly, but not unbearably cold considering the season, and Gwendolen was right where Viola knew she would be: inside Greenhouse Four, with her book of drawings and checking on her babies.

  
  


Gwendolen's 'babies' were in fact nothing more than three trays of dung and dirt, sprouting multitudes of mushrooms. Hearing Viola enter the greenhouse, she quickly shrunk the trays until they were quite tiny, and hid them effectively in a damp drawer. 

  
  


"Oh, Viola, it's you!" she breathed a sigh of relief. "I needn't have worried about hiding them."

  
  


"Yes you did, I'm wearing my badge." Viola pointed to the Head Girl badge pinned to her chest. 

  
  


Gwendolen laughed. "Why yes you are. What brings you out into the world of the living?" She said it with kindness and sympathy, but the words stung nonetheless. 

  
  


"I needed to talk to someone." 

  
  


"Why not your boyfriend?" Viola had never seen Gwenny sneer before, but supposed that she deserved it. After all, her friends must have been quite hurt when she stopped talking to them. "I'm sorry, Vi, I shouldn't speak so cruelly to you." Her eyes lit up. "Have lunch with me, and we'll talk, okay?"

  
  
  
  


"Lunch? In here?" 

  
  


"Of course," Gwendolen laughed and pulled a bag out of her pocket. It was full of dried mushrooms, probably her last harvest, and no doubt her very best. 

  
  


"You know Gwen," Viola tried to sort out her thoughts. "It's strange. You're such a quiet person, you never break any rules and you work like a dog to get your grades. You hardly ever talk and when you do, it's the most intelligent thing that could be applied to any situation. And then, on the other hand, here you are growing magic mushrooms in the school greenhouse and . . ." here she paused and removed her badge, placing it safely out of sight in her pocket. "And forcing me to eat them with you."

  
  


Her friend laughed. "It's just a little peer pressure, give in to it!" And as if to live up to the reputation that was just bestowed on her, continued. "People are weird sometimes, aren't they? I know I seem like a real goodie two shoes or something like that, but the truth is that no one is really good or bad, smart or dumb. It's all about peoples' priorities, and how they are arranged.

  
  


"Being heard or noticed isn't a big priority for me, so I stay quiet. My inner wisdom (she said this sarcastically, shy little Gwenny doesn't fancy herself very smart) is just a result of thinking far too much. School, friends and family are very important, So those are the things I really concentrate on."

  
  


"And the mushrooms? What of those my brilliant friend?" Viola sat down on a bench next to Gwen.

  
  


"Well, I suppose getting high is a precedence in my life as well. After all, everyone needs a way to distract themselves from things: you cut yourself," this was the first time anyone had ever been so blunt as to just come out and say it. It was so straightforward that Viola blushed. "Randy smokes weed, and I grow my little babies and trip out every now and then." she pondered, looking at the bag in her hand. "I'm trying to figure out which of our habits is the worst."

  
  


"I miss you guys so much, you know that right?" She felt surprisingly close to tears. 

  
  


"I know. Lets eat."

  
  


At ten o'clock on that interesting Sunday morning, Viola and Gwendolen ate the mushrooms.

  
  


*************************

  
  


Severus had opted to spend the day locked up in his chambers, until he was sure he was purged of the veritaserum. It took the better part of the day to satisfy himself that he could indeed lie properly, or at least well enough to save face. 

  
  


Strange impulses and motivations caused him to pace wildly around his rooms, impossibly bored and without any sort of destination in mind. 

  
  


With a spurt of decisiveness, he sat down at his table in front of a large stack of seventh year essays. Marking was his least favourite pastime, and he knew that by the time he finished slashing paragraphs with scathing red ink he would be in a towering foul mood. On the other hand, it was Sunday and it needed to be done. As proof that the potion was losing his effect, he was able to force himself to do something other than what he wanted. 

  
  


His prediction, it would seem, was correct. He was definitely in a horrid mood by the time he snatched the last essay toward himself, with the intention of destroying the grade average of whomever had written it. 

  
  


He paused though. The essay was written by Viola Rienne, on the topic of potions used as aphrodisiacs in both the magic and muggle worlds. He wondered what had possessed her to choose such an odd topic. Her handwriting was smudged in some places, due to the inconvenience of being left handed. Being alone, he allowed himself to smile slightly, imagining her cute indignance as he marked her down for carelessness. The essay was very well written, obviously researched extensively, but he could just imagine how much she had laughed while writing it. He wondered briefly if her boyfriend, Brandon, had helped her, since it seemed to correspond more with his immature sense of humour. 

  
  


Suddenly he knew something. He cursed his stupidity for not knowing right away what seemed so blindingly clear now. 

  
  


He dipped his quill into the red ink and gave her a three out of ten on the essay. In the margin, he added a small note in his own precise handwriting: We need to discuss your progress in this class. See me tonight at 6pm. Do not be late.

  
  


***************************

  
  


Exactly one hour after eating the mushrooms, Gwendolen was trying to keep Viola in the greenhouse. 

  
  


"You can't go now!" her huge pupils seemed beseeching. "Randy and Bri will be here soon, wouldn't it be great for all of us to hang out again?"

  
  


Viola wasn't listening. She was too busy watching some usually stationary vines swirl about in the tunnel of her vision. It turns out that Gwendolen O'Bradley had once again lived up to her mushroom standard of excellence. 

  
  


Viola felt a strong urge to flee. True, it would be nice to hang out with her old friends again, but something told her that the time was not ripe. There were other things to be sorted out before everything could be back to normal, and with that thought, she hugged Gwenny and left. 

  
  


Outside, the colour had drained from the sky, leaving it blinding white. The lake was a slab of onyx, shiny as glass, and the ground seemed to sway to the beat of some song in her head. It was a strange, very interesting, hallucinogenic journey to the kitchens for munchies. Full of rippling air, bulgy-eyed house elves, and several random people peeking out at her from behind tapestries. How many of these things were actually present, Viola did not know. 

  
  


Nor did she care. Now was a time to eat things, and the kitchen was, as always, open and friendly to any hungry student. 

  
  


Colours came and went with relentless randomness, and she had trouble navigating her way through the shelves and ovens that made up the majority of the kitchens. The elves were bustling around her, trying to be kind but terrifying her at the same time. They appeared to almost be monsters, grotesque and pushy beings she would rather have avoided for the time being. 

  
  


"Viola, there you are." 

  
  


The voice was cold and distant, coming from behind her. She dared not turn around, she did not want to see him. Would he appear to be himself, sweet and gorgeous with a laughing disposition? Or would she see him as he had appeared last night, a hideous apparition bent on causing pain? She feared that in her intoxicated state of mind that he wouldn't even look like himself, that he might seem disfigured somehow. She thought that she might go mad if he did. 

  
  


"Are you hungry? You missed breakfast." such words of concern should never be spoken in such an inhuman tone. The ground swayed, becoming decidedly slanted under her feet, compelling her to turn around and face him. 

  
  


"Hello Brandon," was all she could manage to say without screaming. She stared at him, not daring to move, and watched the colour leak from him until he stood before her, entirely gray and ugly. His hair turned dull and his skin became rotted and bleached, and soon he stood before her more frightening than a Dementor. 

  
  


"How about a kiss Vi?" He ignored the horrified way in which she looked upon him, and reached for her hand, as was his right to do so. He truly believed that now, after he had consummated their relationship, he owned her. 

  
  


Her lower lip trembled and she tried to turn away from him, maybe to walk or maybe even to run like a lunatic to the Headmaster's office, she wasn't sure. It was made obvious, though, that she would not be allowed to go anywhere, as he grabbed her roughly around the waist, pushing his lips to hers in a bruising, violent kiss. 

  
  


She did scream then, as long and as loud as possible before his clenched fist silenced her. Her bottom lip split against a tooth and blood flooded into her mouth and down her chin, choking her and excited Brandon further. 

  
  


He kissed her harder, sucking her lip to taste as much of her blood as he could, while effectively smothering her cries of distress. She struggled, but he was so much stronger than she was, and she wasn't in her right mind. 

  
  


The elves were more panicked than Viola was. This sort of situation had never plagued the kitchens at Hogwarts, and the majority of them ran and locked themselves in pantries and cupboards. 

  
  


Blindly, her hand sought his face and clawed viciously at his skin, not consciously trying to inflict damage, only trying to get him to let go of her. She tore into the soft flesh around his eyes, and though it disgusted her she forced herself to bite back, finally causing him to flinch and shove her into a wall. 

  
  


From a distance of six feet they glared at each other. Brandon savoured the taste of her blood in his mouth while she loathed the taste of his. His fists were clenched, and she noticed that hers were too. Clutched in her hands were clumps of bloody gold hair that she had rent it from his scalp. She was nauseated at the sight of him, breathless and so clearly aroused from the violence that had passed between them. 

  
  


Viola felt like she couldn't breathe, it was too hard and the air had been sucked out of the room. She collapsed in a heap against the wall, pressing her swollen cheek into the comforting cold stone. She heard his footsteps, but they were moving away from her. Probably going to clean himself up, maybe going to the hospital wing to get his pretty face fixed up. 

  
  


She lay there for hours, staring at the ceiling, silently begging it to stop moving and changing. The elves came out of their hiding places timidly, reverting quickly to what they did best and offered her something to eat and drink. The pity was evident on their little faces as they scurried around her still form. 

  
  


They helped her to eat a small portion of bread, and pressed ice to the side of her face to help the swelling on her eye. They supported her head and held a cup of water to her lips, then went about their business, leaving her alone to come down from her high. She never worried that one of them might inform Dumbledore or any other teacher of her condition; for the most part, the house elves always minded their own business. They didn't ask questions or offer solutions, but one little elf (she thought it was Ducky but couldn't be sure) placed a folded towel under her head and covered her with a shabby wool blanket. 

  
  


She lay there, hidden away in the cavernous kitchens, for most of the day. She thought she might have slept through some of it, because strange dreams became tangled with what she was sure was real. Slowly, though, the confusion faded away as the poison was processed by her body. Colours went back to normal, stones stopped sliding in the walls, and the room finally ceased its incessant spinning. 

  
  


She refused to return to the dormitory. She didn't want to be anywhere near Slytherin part of the castle. She wanted more than anything to go up to the third floor, find the painting of Helga Hufflepuff and go into her old common room. Her friends would be there, Randy would be rolling a joint, and Gwen would probably be drawing something or other. The picture of them in her mind was so soothing compared to what she was facing now, and she wished with all her heart and soul that she could still be there. 

  
  


Laying there on the floor, she went over the circumstances again and again. Why wasn't she still there? Why was she living in a bleak and dreary dungeon instead of the sun washed utopia that was the Hufflepuff common room? Why was she curled up on a stone floor with a split lip and a black eye, afraid to tell anyone why, when she should be smoking joints at that very moment with the people she loved?

  
  


She decided to find out, that night, where that stupid hat got its fucking ideas. 

  
  


******************************

  
  


Will drop pants for reviews. 

Love Jeni

XOXOXOX

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	17. consumation

To mary: a caning from Snape is not an incentive to write faster :) but thanks for the pleasant scenario: "Oh, Professor, no, you can't cane me! What? Drop my pants? Are you sure? Well, okay . . . you're the boss I guess . . . what? Yes, that's your name tattooed on my ass, so what?"

Disclaimer: Rowling owns the Hogwarts environment and all those who dwell within its walls. Viola and her friends live in a box under my bed, which perfectly explains why my room smells like pot . . . got that mom? Hehe.

  
  


Chapter 17

  
  


At eleven thirty Sunday night, when the castle was completely still and silent, a little house elf appeared where he shouldn't be. He was quite nervous about being out of bounds, and a little afraid of the dark room. 

  
  


The hospital wing was empty. The only light was from the moon, draped over the floor in large rectangles from the windows. Ducky had never been in this part of the castle before; his domain had always been in the dungeons and he had not desired to explore further. But the girl in the kitchen needed a favor, and he had taken pity on her. Sure, she had yelled at him once in a classroom, but she was in quite a pathetic state at the moment, and nearly desperate for a small bottle of healing potion.

  
  


He had tried to reason with her, of course. Why can't she get it? He had asked. Why not just go make some in Snape's class? Why not just forget it? She had been adamant though, and had refused to budge from her place on the floor for the entire day and so far a good portion of the night. She was making the other house elves quite uneasy. What if her assailant came back looking for her?

  
  


None of the servants that inhabited the Kitchens wanted to see that fiend again, and so it was very important that she be able to leave. 

  
  


Viola had told Ducky precisely where the bottle would be, and with confidence in her instructions he carefully opened Madame Pomfrey's cupboards, mindful of the squeaking hinges. There were rows upon rows of the healing potions, their bottles neatly labeled in Snape's veracious handwriting. With one small vial tucked safely in his hand, Ducky disappeared undetected with a "Pop". 

  
  


A half hour later, with a freshly healed face and determined to accomplish her task undiscovered, Viola stood in front of an ugly stone gargoyle, trying out passwords. The rumor of Dumbledore's affiliation with candy passwords was losing its credibility to a certain Head Girl. Every Flavour Beans, Chocolate Frogs, Mint Humbugs, Ice Mice, even the esteemed Sherbet Lemon couldn't tempt the sentry to move an inch. 

  
  


If she wasn't so desperate to consult the sorting hat she might have given up, but she was driven to finish what she had started. 

  
  


"Jolly Ranchers?" She tried a muggle candy. The gargoyle continued to do what it did best and blocked the doorway incessantly. "Everlasting Gobstoppers?" She wasn't sure if those were real candies, but she had heard about them in a movie when she was little. The Gargoyle blinked at her in a distrusting sort of way, but grudgingly moved aside to reveal the moving staircase that led to Dumbledore's office. 

  
  


She had been in this room twice before. In her fifth year when she became a prefect, and again at the end of her sixth year when she was informed of her promotion to Head Girl. The good favour that she had received from Dumbledore then was a far cry from what she would receive if caught now. The words Breaking and Entering flashed though her mind, along with things like Detention and Expulsion. She resolved to finish as fast as possible, trying to reassure herself that she had indeed not broken anything to get in, merely discovered that the Headmaster seemingly had spent some time in his youth at Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. 

  
  


"Well, Viola Rienne." A familiar voice cut through the silence. She swallowed a frightened gasp and whirled around to face whomever had spoken. 

  
  


The sorting hat sat unmoving on its shelf behind the desk. It was grinning at her with its strange mouth. 

  
  


With surprisingly steady hands she grabbed the hat and placed it on her head. She almost sat down in Dumbledore's chair, but thought it might be disrespectful and instead sat cross-legged on the floor. 

  
  


"Still confused eh Vi?" The hat pried into her mind.

  
  


"Yes, very." She leaned into the wall defensively, blinded by the oversized rim of the hat. 

  
  


"What about?"

  
  


"You know why!" she shouted in frustration. Her voice echoed somewhat ominously, which seemed strange in the relatively small room. She continued, whispering furiously. "You can see in my brain, you know what's going on." 

  
  


"Yes, not having a very good year are you?" 

  
  


"No shit." She pouted. "Why did you do this?"

  
  


"I haven't done anything."

  
  


"You put me in Slytherin!"

  
  


"I did you a favour!" the Sorting Hat sounded angry and defensive. "I never raped you, or beat you up, or destroyed your friendships! I never once cut you or did anything to you. I put you where you needed to be, with someone you need to be with - "

  
  


"With Brandon? You fucked up piece of - "

  
  


"No, not with that one. That was your own bad decision. I put you next to a man that was capable of being your cure, and you're letting some stupid taboo keep the two of you apart."

  
  


"What?" her anger deflated, leaving only mild confusion.

  
  


"It's not entirely your fault. He's just as bad."

  
  


"Who are you talking about?"

  
  


"When I sorted a young Severus Snape, he was fifteen years old. Had he been able to come to Hogwarts when he was eleven, I likely would have put him in Hufflepuff. I could see in his mind that he had once belonged there. But the boy he turned into during his years at Durmstrang begged me to place him in Slytherin." 

  
  


"What does this have to do with me?"

  
  


"Just pay attention." It was annoyed. "Kids get more impatient every year. It's terrible."

  
  


"I have to hurry, I don't want to get found in here." She explained. 

  
  


"Then you should have considered the wards."

  
  


"Wards? I didn't feel any wards." That in itself was rather strange, when she thought about it, but she had her suspicions that the hat was just fucking with her. 

  
  


"There is a silent alarm. You can't feel it, and Dumbledore probably already knows you're here."

  
  


"Fine, I'll go as soon as you answer my question."

  
  


"No, you'll go now." It spoke matter-of-factly. "And as soon as you get back to your dorm you'll grab your razor blades. You'll hide behind the curtains of your bed and cut yourself, because you just don't know what else to do."

  
  


Tears rushed to her eyes and fell down her cheeks at the thought. 

  
  


"You'll cry, and cut your wrists wide open, and the blood will pour out, hot and horrid, but you'll love every second of it, won't you?" It spoke in a monotone, blatantly, trying not to spare her feelings. 

  
  


A miserable sob escaped her. "No, no I won't." She moaned as if in agony. 

  
  


"Yes you will. Brandon will never leave you alone, now you're just his little mudblood whore; his slut. He'll hurt you as often as he can, and he'll never stop. You'll cut your wrists and kill yourself."

  
  


Her fists clenched so hard her nails cut into her palms. "Stop." She begged. "I can't do that, I know I won't." 

  
  


"And why won't you?" it asked urgently, a persistent whisper in her ear. 

  
  


"Because I can't do it anymore." She cried like a child, purging her body of perturbation for the second time in two days. "It hurts and I can't stand it."

  
  


"Because?"

  
  


"Because there are so much better things."

  
  


"And who taught you that?" 

  
  


"Severus," she stopped crying, and finally understood a little bit. 

  
  


The hat dropped its scathing and cruel dialogue, and once again adopted the softer, calmer tone she was used to. "And that, Viola, means that I saved your life. And I sure as hell didn't do it so you could go mess it up again. Understand? Now put me back."

  
  


She sighed, left with a lot more questions than answers. A sort of heaviness tightened in her chest, and she was very abruptly having an asthma attack. Gasping, she fumbled in the inner pockets of her robe for the inhaler that she always carried but so rarely used. She pressed the button twice and inhaled profoundly, slamming the hat back onto its shelf with a spurt of Slytherin malignancy. She briefly paused and stood still, breathing deeply as the asthma retreated, then remembered the silent alarm wards. She whirled around, intent on running all the way to the dungeons, using every secret passage she knew of. Sitting in his chair, though, in a magnificent deep green dressing gown and night cap with a glittering silver tassel, was Dumbledore. 

  
  


A regal study in Slytherin colours, but her heart almost stopped as he pinned her in place with twinkling blue eyes. 

  
  


She shook a bit, then sunk back down to her seat on the floor, burning with embarrassment. Her Head Girl badge felt heavy in her pocket, and she feared that it might soon be taken from her. She didn't know what to say, she suspected that Dumbledore had heard the entire thing. 

  
  


He spoke first, as if reading her mind. "Don't worry, Miss Rienne, I did not hear anything before you mentioned the given name of our Potions Master." He didn't sound accusing, but she understood the underlying implications nonetheless. 

  
  


"Professor Snape has helped me quite a bit Headmaster." she said softly. 

  
  


"So it seems," he replied, perhaps a little sarcastically. Mordacity sounded so strange coming from him, everyone's eccentric grandpa. 

  
  


"He's been very civil to me." she said evasively, thinking that if it wasn't a lie it was definitely the worst understatement ever. 

  
  


"Viola, relax, you are not going to be expelled."

  
  


She looked very relieved. He smiled, then had a little chuckle at her expense, eyes twinkling perpetually. 

  
  


"I once caught Severus at the same thing you were here to do." the smile vanished and the old man looked grave. "Severus had quite a bad time in his seventh year. He confronted the hat in a fit of rage, flying on muggle heroin, half naked and bleeding from some perverted orgy initiated by Lucius Malfoy."

  
  


Viola shuddered, giving the headmaster her undivided attention. 

  
  


"I couldn't deal with him, I was so angry to find him in such a state. I bound his arms tightly to his sides and directed him to the Hospital Wing where he was turned over to the care of the matron. I never said a word about it to him afterward, but I imagine he wanted to ask the hat the same thing you came here to ask. And I have no doubt in my mind that neither of you were given sufficient answers. It is, after all, just a hat." 

  
  


"It seems to know what it's talking about most of the time . . . now, though, I'm just confused." she confided, mulling over this new knowledge about Snape. She felt like she was about one story away from knowing everything there was to know about this man, and he intrigued her more with every minute that went by. 

  
  


Dumbledore continued. "Such was my rage, that I did not speak to Severus again for a very long time. I didn't know how to handle him, his problems were so much worse than I had thought. He hid them so well, no one around him could have guessed at the depth of the hole he had thrown himself into."

  
  


His tone shocked her. Never had Albus Dumbledore spoken so bitterly and resentfully. "You feel guilty?" she asked, finally guessing the truth. "You think he became a Death Eater because you got mad at him?"

  
  


If he found her knowledge of Snape's past suspicious, he never called attention to it. "I was beyond mad at him. That boy was like my son, and because of one event I nearly began to hate him." Dumbledore sounded a bit repulsed. "I turned my back on him, and ignored as he complied to turn his back on me. Three years later, I caught him red handed once again, with a much darker intent than ravaging a hat for answers."

  
  


"What? What was it, what did he do?" She felt so desperately eager to know everything, to be able to understand him more than anyone else in the world. 

  
  


Her ardor at last drew a questionable raised eyebrow from the old man. "Viola, may I ask you exactly what is the nature of you relationship with Professor Severus Snape?" He formed the words slowly and carefully, being specific and precise in his choice of words. For a few seconds, she was one hundred percent positive that he knew everything that had gone between the blistering kiss at Christmas and that morning when she had thought about him and touched herself. 

  
  


Without thinking, she lied, a complete and total bluff. If Dumbledore knew anything at all she would surely be exposed as a liar and punished, but then again, if he was really only asking and had no idea of their encounters, she would lose Severus his job by revealing the truth. With that logic in mind, she lied to Dumbledore's face. 

  
  


"Well, he's my Head of House." She shrugged, hoping to whatever Gods dwelled above her that she looked innocent and no blush or twitch would give her away. "But, like I said, he's been very kind to me . . . I'm not . . . fitting in too well . . . and he is such a very interesting person. . ." she trailed off, hoping he would accept her answer. She hoped he might write her fascination off as a girlish crush on Hogwarts' resident "bad boy".

  
  


"Alright, Miss Rienne." He sighed, looking rather tired. "One thing I can do, old man or not, is learn from my mistakes." He looked at her earnestly. "I doubt that you'll manage to get yourself tied up with Death Eaters, but I feel I should ease my old soul and give you a choice."

  
  


"A choice for what, Headmaster?" she was slightly apprehensive.

  
  


"Do you want to return to Hufflepuff?" 

  
  


She thought about it, for what seemed like a very long time. Would it really change anything? Now that she really contemplated it, she didn't think it would make any difference at all. Surely Brandon wouldn't let something like that keep her away from him; he would find a way to get close to her again, he was smart. The hat was right, he wouldn't stop hurting her now, regardless of what house she lived in. Also, as long as Brandon kept himself in her life, she had no friends. It would make for quite a lot of awkward evenings in the common room, sitting in front of the fire all by herself and watching everyone else enjoy themselves. 

  
  


The last thought that went through her head, and possibly the thought that made her decision for her, was that the Hufflepuff common room was pretty far away from the dungeons, and so much farther away from Severus Snape. She tried to snuff this idea out immediately, but in the end her choice was made.

  
  


"No, Headmaster, I'll stay in Slytherin." She offered no explanation, and he didn't ask for one. He simply nodded and then led her out of his office into the hallway. She wasn't sure where they were going at first, until he brought her to a largely unused corridor on the second floor. 

  
  


"Perhaps a little solitude would do you good for the time being." He said warmly, patting the top of her head and making her feel pleasantly like a child. He turned and walked away then, probably back to his own sleep, and left Viola in front of the door to the traditional Head Girl's room. 

  
  


She had politely refused this room at the beginning of the year, thinking that there was nothing wrong with the simpler dormitories. Tonight, though, she was grateful to have this comfortable room all to herself. The instant the door was safely locked, she threw her clothes off and slipped naked under the covers, asleep as soon as her head hit the pillows. 

  
  


****************************

  
  


Severus woke the next morning not quite refreshed, and just a bit apprehensive. Leaving his bedroom to fix some tea (naked, of course.), the stack of essays caught his attention and reminded him of Viola. He had a fair amount of certainty that their conference would not be a pleasant one, and for a second he was tempted to talk to Professor Sprout, her old head of house, and ask her to handle it since she knew the girl better. Plus, to make things even more difficult, he wasn't entirely sure he could maintain a proper role as her teacher, after they had lain together in his bed. 

  
  


He found it strange, how much he still wanted her, how much he thought about her. And the indignation she would set upon him when she found out what their meeting was going to be about only made him want her more. 

  
  


He became very frustrated when Viola failed to come to class that morning. He urgently wanted to speak with her, to not waste another second if he didn't have to. He wondered if maybe he had been just a day too late, and she was holed up in the hospital wing with horrific injuries. Brandon Carter was in class on time, though, looking as smug as ever. Severus noticed that he badly wanted to see the kid in a lot of pain if he had done to Viola what Severus thought. 

  
  


This sort of anxiety was strange for him; he couldn't remember ever worrying so much about anyone before. Usually when a student had a problem, he dealt with it professionally and to the best of his ability. This time, though, it felt so considerably . . . personal. 

  
  


A few minutes after he began the lesson, the door swung open, nearly giving him a heart attack. He thought it might have been her, but it was a Hufflepuff. 

  
  


"Miss O'Bradley, how very nice of you to join us at last." He scolded her, almost forgetting to sound like a bastard. "Ten points from Hufflepuff." 

  
  


"Sir," she said timidly, approaching him instead of taking her seat. "The Headmaster kept me." She handed him a folded piece of parchment. "He said that Viola is to be excused today."

  
  


Snape glanced quickly at the note, which confirmed her statement. It also mentioned that she would no longer be sleeping in the Slytherin Dormitory. This upset him, and he wasn't sure why. 

  
  


Since there was no longer any reason to hold off, he returned their essays, giving out random criticisms to the Hufflepuffs and rare praise to some of his Slytherins. Viola's essay was at the bottom of the pile, bearing the note that he had written before. It was still important that he speak to her, that night if possible, so he stalked between desks and stood before Gwendolen. 

  
  


"Miss O'Bradley, do you happen to know where Miss Rienne is currently dwelling?" 

  
  


"Yes, Professor." She said very quietly, frowning slightly at the grade on her essay. She had written about hallucinogenic ingredients being used in potions to create intense, artificial drugs with no harmful side effects. He thought it was clever, but gave her a four. "She's moved to the Head Girl's room." He noticed that she kept her voice as low as possible, and that her eyes flickered for a second. He subtly followed her gaze and saw that Brandon Carter was watching, trying to overhear. The lordly look on the boy's face made Severus so unexplainably irate.

  
  


"Could you please see that she gets this?" he gave Gwen her friend's essay. "And any other homework I give today? She needs to stay caught up."

  
  


"Perhaps I should, Professor." Carter spoke up in a strangely dark tone. "I am her boyfriend."

  
  


Now it was Gwendolen's turn to look furious. There was definitely something going on; Severus had a feeling that Brandon was trying to find out where she was. 

  
  


"I'm sure Miss O'Bradley can manage, Carter, get back to work." Snape said coldly, handing her the paper slowly and deliberately. "Thank you, Gwendolen." He said to her. Snape rarely called students by there first names, but Gwen was more shocked by what he did next. Plucking her quill out of her hand, he changed the mark on her paper from a four to an eight, and whispered "Twenty points to Hufflepuff, for your inconvenience."

  
  


***********************

  
  


Six o clock came and went. Snape had not seen her at lunch or dinner, and it was becoming quite clear that she would not be attending their appointment. 

  
  


That girl has some balls, Severus fumed. Here he was, going quite out of his way to help her, and she had the nerve to just not show up. No one had ever blown off a detention from Severus Snape. 

  
  


He was unused to helping people, and to have his sincere efforts thwarted frustrated him. Resolutely, he made his angry way up to the Head Girl's room, robes flying behind him and students scrambling to get out of his way.

  
  


He had intended to pound loudly on the door and get her into a panic, maybe even take points off Slytherin and give her a few horrid detentions, just to teach her to appreciate his efforts a little. These were his intentions, but they faded and gave way to dread when he finally got to knock on the door. 

  
  


His first thunderous whack caused the door to swing open on its own, quickly and easily. For some reason, it had been left ajar. 

  
  


The room was still, dark, and entirely silent. She must be in here, he thought, because she's not dumb enough to leave without even closing her door. Cautiously, with a suspicion that he shouldn't do what he was doing, he entered the room and shut the door behind him. Her room was on the wrong side of the castle to get any sunlight so late in the day, and Severus nearly tripped on the edge of a rug on the floor with not so much as a flickering candle to guide him. He cursed under his breath and looked up sharply as a tiny gasp sounded from under the covers on the bed. 

  
  


Smirking, and not even bothering to make light, he crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. He felt her squirm as he sat down, and pulled the covers down to reveal a pair of nervous brown eyes, peeking out from behind a mop of light hair. 

  
  


It took her a second to focus her eyes, and he observed they suddenly looked relieved. 

  
  


"Oh, it's you," she said it in a way that suggested that she thought it might have been someone else. "For a second I thought I was dreaming."

  
  


"Do I often appear in your dreams, Miss Rienne?" Sarcastic, but low and seductive at the same time. She opted to blush instead of answer, while he continued to sit and wait. Inwardly she grinned, wondering if he was aware that she was naked under the quilt. Silence stretched. 

  
  


"You missed our appointment." He said at last. 

  
  


"I wasn't aware we had one." 

  
  


"I sent your friend up here with your homework, did you not receive it?" 

  
  


"Oh, yes, Gwenny came. I didn't look at it though, I only got up to let her in then I went back to bed." She clutched the blankets up to her chin. "She must have left the door open."

  
  


"So it would seem."

  
  


More soundlessness. He felt unsure of himself, almost going mad as her eyes dragged over him. She saw him watching her. Watching her watch him. It was funny to Viola, and she giggled a bit, muffled by the quilt covering half her face. 

  
  


"What's funny?" He asked, indignant. 

  
  
  
  


"You," she mumbled, still smiling. The blankets smothered her answer so that all he heard was an indistinct whisper.

  
  


Without thinking, he grabbed the blankets again and pulled. "I can't hear you with those damn things covering your face . . ." he trailed off, having pulled quite a bit too hard. 

  
  


Good gods. Whatever happened to the days when girls wore huge flannel pajamas and wool nightgowns? Where was he when they started sleeping naked? The quilt now covered nothing higher than her navel, and he found himself looking on in amazement at her small, round breasts. Her creamy white skin seemed to glow in the darkness, accentuating little pink nipples that tightened as the chill of the room hit them. 

  
  


She continued to watch him, not attempting to cover up. Seconds ticked by and neither of them made a move to do anything. Severus couldn't stand it anymore. He was hard and burning for her, but he couldn't touch her. It would be wrong in every sense of the word. He would go strait to Professor Sprout and inform her that her old student needed assistance with an abusive relationship. He would be impartial and professional, and he would stop staring at those lovely little handfuls of sweet young flesh . . .

  
  


It took every bit of will power in his body, but he got one hand working and attempted to cover her back up with the quilt. She stopped him though, damn her for foiling him again. She took his wrist in her hands, which were shaking furiously, betraying trepidation that was not evident in her face. Slowly, not taking her eyes off his, she brought his hand to her face and kissed his palm gently, before placing it directly over her breast. 

  
  


It was too much. Damn her a hundred times, but there was no way he could stop. He squeezed her breast firmly and bent down to take her nipple into his mouth. His hair draped over her skin and made her gasp, arching slightly off the bed, leaning into his touch. 

  
  


He circled her nipple with his tongue and bit sharply on its peak. She writhed as if in pain, but her hand wove through his hair and held him in place, as if afraid his administrations would suddenly stop. His mouth dragged over her collarbone and up to her throat, breathing hard and pyretic breaths into her pulse. He propped himself up on his elbows, hovering for a second over her to watch her face. She was flushed and panting, her lips red and parted, begging to be kissed. 

  
  


He tried to be gentle and soft, but she was driving him mad. He ravaged her mouth and sucked on her lower lip, kissing her hard with all the hunger he had been struggling with for far too long. Her arms came up to wrap around his neck and her breasts pressed onto his chest. He felt her legs moving, bumping him with her knees, and realized that she was trying to kick the blankets off herself. He pulled back from her and swung the covers nearly completely off the bed. 

  
  


His eyes lingered on her for a moment before he bent to unlace his boots. She watched him with a spark of humour in her eyes as he fumbled to get the cumbersome things off as fast as possible. She felt no embarrassment in front of him, completely exposed. She loved the way he looked at her, as if she were something so irresistible and beautiful. The instant the boots hit the floor she grabbed him by the front of his robes and pulled him down to her again. He knelt between her legs and she sat up to reach him. He cupped her face with both hands and kissed her again, less demanding this time but no less captivating. He slid his tongue over hers, tasting her and memorizing her in affectionate detail. 

  
  


He was so absorbed in their kiss that he didn't even notice her hands had moved until he felt them on his bare skin. She had undone the clasp of his robes and half the buttons on his shirt, giving her access to his heated flesh. Her hands were cold and he tensed for a second, biting back a groan.

  
  


"Did I do something wrong?" She looked worried and so innocent. He shook his head and gave her a reassuring half smile, shucking off his robes and shirt. He would have loved to discard his pants as well, given the amount that they had shrunk, but the last thing he wanted to do was intimidate her with his . . . Well, he wasn't one to brag about his anatomy. 

  
  


She was hesitant, so he was patient. Slowly she touched him again, sort of marveling at the sequence of events that had led to this sensational conclusion. She started with his face, delicate fingers sweeping over his cheekbones and the graceful curve of his lips. She felt the muscles in his shoulders and down his arms, shivering when she felt how strong he must be. She held his left arm a little longer and looked at the Dark Mark, not bothering to disguise what she was doing. He allowed her to consider the mark, not feeling the least bit shameful of it in her presence. 

  
  


She let go of his arm and turned her attention to his chest. It was becoming too difficult to stay still, and Severus thought he might just come in his pants like a fifth year if she kept it up. He wasn't used to being touched so softly. It was as if she was trying to study him instead of arouse him; the feeling was something new and so he let her continue, seeing her get more confident every time she drew a response out of him. She kissed his collarbone and sucked lightly on his neck, inching her fingertips down his stomach. The muscles of his abdomen clenched in turn as her nails pulled over them. By the time she touched the waistband of his trousers he was shaking with lust, barely holding himself back. 

  
  


Unable to stop, his teeth came down sharply below her ear. She gasped, stiffened, and he thought that he had hurt her. Then she moaned and pressed herself solidly into his body, feeling the hard length of him through his pants. 

  
  


"Do you want me to be rough with you?" He breathed in her ear, surprised by her unbridle reaction. 

  
  


"You feel so good, Severus . . ." she fumbled with his buttons, undoing his trousers and freeing his erection. "Just don't hurt me . . ." she grasped his erection in her small hands, stroking as hard as she dared without causing him pain. "This is my first time." She admitted. 

  
  


"I won't hurt you," he assured her, cupping her bottom with both hands, his fingers straying toward her center. He spoke into the curve of her neck, sucking and biting, thrusting gently into her hand as she caressed him with inexperience, but confidence. "Gods, Viola, I'm aching for you." His voice was a low purr, deep in his chest that reverberated into her core, melting her until she too felt an ache deep inside her body. 

  
  


He wrenched her hand from his rigid manhood, gripped her shoulders and placed her back down with her head resting comfortably on a pillow. He freed himself of his trousers and boxers and kissed her abdomen, inching tortuously downward past her naval. His tongue flicked out and just barely touched her opening. She flinched and tried to close her legs, put he held her hips firmly in place with strong hands. 

  
  


"Let me . . . " he pleaded insidiously, raising a crafty eyebrow at her from his place between her legs. "Please, I want to . . ." she made no more protest, she couldn't, not with that man doing THAT to her. His scathing tongue, so talented when it came to terrorizing students, was so much more gifted when it came to the more intimate details of the female body. She though that he was devouring her, and a tightness that started in the pit of her stomach was spreading out, filling her with nearly unbearable, wonderful tension. He closed his lips around the swollen, red button that was her clitoris, and sucked on it lightly. She bit down on the back of her hand, muffling a scream and arching off the bed. He reveled in her ecstacy, he knew that she was close and that it was him that was doing it. He felt a surge of power and bit down on her inner thigh, removing a hand from her hip and applying his elegant fingers to the aid of his mouth. 

  
  


Severus sank two long digits into her wet heat and curled them upwards, searching for that spot that would make her cry out in earnest. 

  
  


"Gods, Severus, I'm . . . I'm going to . . ." She panted and writhed, unable to articulate any further than muted moans and whimpers. 

  
  


His cock throbbed and he applied more pressure to the inside of her with his skilled hands. His mouth circled her clit and he tugged lightly with his teeth. "Yes, Viola, I want to make you come . . ." 

  
  


Her muscles clamped down around his fingers and she screamed, gripping white sheets in whiter knuckles. Her thighs were hard and they quivered as she tried to keep still, her breasts heaving as she sucked in long breaths. All the air had left her body, leaving her buzzing and full of a feeling of euphoria. 

  
  


A blush spread over her cheeks and down to color her breasts a darker pink. Her nipples were rigid and distended and tears were streaking from her eyes and into her hair. 

  
  


He reared over her and knelt again between her legs, gripping her hips soundly. "Do you want this?" he breathed. 

  
  


She couldn't answer, only nod forcefully and shift her pelvis upwards, as if reaching to sheath the dusky length of his engorged member. In an instant he was inside her, throwing his head back and groaning at the tightness of her. Viola felt a shock of pain, Severus was so much bigger than Brandon, but it quickly dissipated when he began to move inside her, thrusting hard and deep, with long, deliberate motions. She watched the muscles on his stomach clench and become more defined each time he drove into her. 

  
  


She wanted more of him, to feel him slamming inside her forever. This was sublime. She crossed her legs around his waist and he took the hint and fucked her harder. They went on like this, sweating and mingling and moving together until time blurred and ceased to be, and they indulged in the pleasure that the other was capable of offering. 

  
  


Perhaps minutes, or even hours later, Viola wasn't sure, he let go of her hips and her bottom hit the sheets. As fast as he could manage, he was inside her again, stretched overtop of her with her fingers entwined in his above her head. He was heavy, but she hardly cared. The whole bed seemed to move from the power of his thrusts, and before she could even feel it coming she was in the throes of a second climax. She tightened around his shaft, and he silenced her before she could scream again with a probing, scorching kiss as he too came hard, pushing into her one last time as he emptied himself with a feral groan of satisfaction. 

  
  


He looked at her, and noticed for the millionth time that she was beautiful. He kissed her again. 

  
  


******************************

  
  


I hope you all enjoyed that. I would really appreciate feedback on this, more than usual, cause this was my first try with smut. I hope it was satisfactory and to your tastes. 

Love you all

Jeni

XOXOXOX


	18. morning after

Warning!! There is . . . what do people call it . . . Men kissing in this chapter. Hate to spoil the surprise, but some (crazy) people don't like that sort of thing and I'd hate to get in trouble . . . 

  
  


Chapter 18

  
  


Sometime late at night, or possible early morning, somewhere in a dark castle where no one stirs and all are lost in sleep, two people lie awake. Two lovers, dozing in post-coital contentment, embrace each other under heavy blankets. Touches are stolen and received, they caress and explore one another. These two people are not a teacher and student, simply a man and a woman, and they are making love. They come together this time not in a feverish, intense frenzy of teeth and nails, but slowly, lazily, breathing in time with one another. He moves inside her, and she sighs, for once very happy with where she is. 

  
  


"Do you have any idea how good you feel?"

  
  


"No, professor, I'd have to say that I don't."

  
  


"Hm . . .well, then, Viola . . . how could I explain it to you?"

  
  


"I think you have."

  
  


"You sound tired."

  
  


"That's no one's fault but your own, Severus."

  
  


"You know I've fantasised about you, once or twice?"

  
  


"I didn't, but I'm flattered."

  
  


"I couldn't forget how you felt. I almost went mad wanting you."

  
  


"You wanted me?"

  
  


"Mm . . . still do."

  
  


************************

  
  


Viola woke with the rising of the sun, light pouring through her window to assault her eyes. She rolled over, wishing she had remembered to draw the curtains on the bed. 

  
  


Slowly she became fully awake, yawning a few times and kicking the blankets off herself. She was immediately alert, however, once she felt how cold her room was. She bundled back up in the quilt and shivered. 

  
  


Severus was gone. She sighed, alone, and squeezed her eyes shut. After their initial coupling, they had come together twice more. The night was a blur of mouths, moans, clawed backs and writhing bodies. She had been too exhausted to wake up when he left, and it disappointed her. 

  
  


Her muscles screamed when she got out of bed and stretched, and she became quite irritable. Her legs felt like they had run a marathon and she was quite tender in a number of other places as well. In the shower she noticed dark purple marks on her breasts and inner thighs, no doubt made by his mouth. How could she have expected anything different though, especially from a Slytherin like him? Just because he isn't Brandon, doesn't automatically make him Prince Fucking Charming. They had both wanted her for the same reasons, the only difference was that she liked what Severus had done to her. 

  
  


She felt her cheeks burn and was thankful that no one was around to see her so miserable, walking around like a cowboy on stiff, overworked legs. A million sensations lingered on her skin, so difficult to just scrub away in a hot shower. Rough hands, hot breath, and coarse stubble grating between her shoulders. Whispered eroticisms, muffled cries of release and probing tongues. He had held her after, and she remembered falling asleep while listening to his heart beating. She tried to stay awake, but his breathing soon lulled her into slumber so deep that he was able to extract himself from their embrace and sneak off. 

  
  


She felt used, again, and what made it so much worse than before was that she loved every second of it. She thought, that if given the chance, she would let him use her as often as he wanted. She was ashamed to think such a thing, but he had known exactly how to touch her, and she thought she would never stop wanting him now that she knew what he could do to her. 

  
  


There was three new items on her desk, that had not been there the night before. She didn't notice them until she finally wandered out of the bathroom, dripping wet, naked, and towelling her hair. The sun was fully bright in the sky now and the room was warmer. The first thing she noticed was the flower, a white and gold daisy in a small test tube filled with water. She knew it was from Snape, judging by the makeshift vase no doubt liberated from his lab. She thought it was a sweet gesture and it raised her spirits considerably. The second object was a small decanter of soft pink liquid. She didn't have a clue what it was and its presence led to confusion. Last of all was a folded piece of parchment. A note, it turned out, from Snape. 

  
  


The vial contains a morning-after contraceptive. Drink it all. S. 

  
  


In a puff of anger she crumpled the note and downed the potion like a shot. How very fucking thoughtful of him! How kind to ensure she wasn't carrying his bastard, and not even wake her when he left . . . despite the wonderful taste of strawberries in her mouth from the potion, she thought she might retch. 

  
  


There was some time to be wasted before she had to face everyone in the Great Hall, so Viola smoked a joint by herself on her windowsill, while the little daisy basked in her shadow, and wilted from unhappiness. 

  
  


****************************

  
  


"There's that look again! You got some, didn't you?"

  
  


A black towel flew through the air and draped over a giggling mirror. Snape was finding it difficult to stifle his unusually high spirits, and even his talkative mirror failed to bring a scowl to his face. His stomach rumbled cheerily, and for the first time ever he couldn't wait to get to the Great Hall for breakfast. On top of this, he had gotten a great sleep. He hadn't felt so rested in quite a long time, and he suspected that Viola was responsible for it. 

  
  


Severus Snape was never deprived of sex. Frequent dark revels and Lucius Malfoy's interesting parties had never left him wanting, but he could not recall a single instance in his life in which he had woken up with the woman he had previously bedded. This thought worried him slightly, made him think that maybe he wasn't capable of a healthy, adult relationship. It was something he could definitely get used to, though; she had looked so appealing in the dim light of dawn, and he watched her closely while he got dressed, careful, as he did not want to wake her. It hit him while he was buttoning his shirt that he should maybe stay for a little while longer. Certainly it would be better than going back to his dungeon, but he decided against it. Surely she would want him to leave. 

  
  


But before he did, he pressed a kiss to her cheek, fighting hard against the urge to crawl back into bed with her. He flooed back to his room using her fireplace. 

  
  


While Viola was glowering at her hickeys in her bathroom, Severus was smiling faintly at his own, and being mocked by his mirror about the scratches on his back. 

  
  


"So, Severus, sleeping with wolverines eh?" 

He smirked while tried to shave. "You're quite crude for a mirror, you know."

  
  


"I've seen some pretty crude things, living in your bathroom."

  
  


"You have not." He snapped.

  
  


"Whatever you say . . . but I think I'd like to meet this one. She must really be something, judging from the twinkle in your eyes and the love bites on your neck."

  
  


"I guess it's high collars for me today." he sounded amused. 

  
  


"Wear that nice black one Nicola made you for Christmas."

  
  


"Don't be asinine. Even for an inanimate object, you're embarrassing yourself. A mirror should know better."

  
  


"It's not that bad, show the old lady some respect."

  
  


"Oh come on, Nicola is possibly the only lady I do respect." he rinsed the access lather from his shaven face and attempted to run a comb through his sodden hair. 

  
  


"What about your conquest from last night?"

  
  


He didn't want to discuss that. He was growing more uneasy about the whole thing with every minute that went by. True, she was most definitely a wonderful girl, but she had lied to him. She had claimed to be a virgin, and not that it bothered him that she wasn't, he was confused as to why she would say she was. Perhaps she had simply been using him for the same reasons that he had used women in the past, and it had been nothing but a seductive game, a ploy to get the cold, cruel potions master to reveal his humanity. It didn't sound like the kind of thing she would do, but he was unused to benevolence and received it with suspicion. 

  
  


He was glad now that he left before she woke up. Surely she hadn't been playing a cruel feminine game, but most definitely she would not want to see his face when she awoke. She had been distressed, which he knew when he went there. She had been lonely, desperate for someone to be close to her. He knew all these things, and still he took advantage of her. 

  
  


And given the chance, he would do it again. 

  
  


Once in the Great Hall, among his colleagues and masses of students, Snape didn't hesitate to fill his plate with fruit and a bagel. 

  
  


"Severus," Dumbledore clamped a gentle hand down on the Potions Master's shoulder. "You seem positively cheerful this morning. Who died?" 

  
  


"Severus was missing last night." Professor Sprout cut in mischievously. She winked at Snape, getting a scowl in return. "I went to see you about those ingredients you had needed." she grinned, and to the whole table proclaimed, "He was nowhere to be found."

  
  


"Another trip to the brothel in Hogsmeade?" Minerva said scathingly. Severus gave her his brightest, widest grin for a split second, horrifying everyone present. 

  
  


"Oh, Minerva, you know I've never had to pay for sex."

  
  


She was not impressed. "Another one night stand, or have you decided to act your age and start a lasting relationship?"

  
  


"One night stand, you know no woman would have me for longer than that." 

  
  


There seemed to be no suspicion about his actual location, so he willed himself to relax and eat his breakfast. He spotted Viola taking her seat at the end of the Slytherin table, but she seemed determined not to meet his eyes. 

  
  


So, it would seem that she had come to her senses. He watched Brandon Carter enter the hall and take a seat next to her, and his regular bad mood came back tenfold. Something a lot like jealousy surged through him, and he was tempted to storm the hell out of the hall and deduct a lot of points from random students. 

  
  


She didn't seem to happy to see Carter either. As soon as he sat down she tried to get up, without a word to him. Severus watched with interest as her boyfriend grabbed her wrist and tried to wrench her back down, but she tugged free and left without looking back. He watched her walking, and felt guilty to notice a slight limp in her step. When she left, he turned his gaze back to Carter, who looked positively furious. 

  
  


He had a feeling that his prior suspicions regarding the Carter boy had been correct, and he was hurting her in some way. The kid definitely had a screw loose. If only he had confronted her about it last night, like he had planned, instead of behaving like a dirty old man and having sex with her. 

  
  


The day was long, and annoying, and so very full of stress for the poor Potions Master. He would catch glimpses of Viola in the hallways now and then, but each time she just hurried on her way as if she hadn't even noticed him. He almost wished that she had a class with him that day, so she would be forced to acknowledge his presence. 

  
  


These feeling confused him, as did the near jealousy in the Great Hall, and the way his thoughts seemed to be wandering in her direction all day, despite his efforts to do otherwise. This confusion is what caused him to be brooding in front of his fire that night, with a bottle of firewhiskey and a book he couldn't bring himself to read. He needed a distraction, anything to get his mind off . . . her. 

  
  


Salvation, of sorts, was in the fire a minute later. The head of Lucius Malfoy popped into existence amidst the crackling flames, scaring Severus nearly out of his mind. 

  
  


Lucius laughed heartily as Snape spilled the whiskey all over himself. "Sev, come to the manor." he requested.

  
  


With a swish of his wand his clothes were free of whiskey. "What's going on Lucius? A meeting?"

  
  


"A meeting? Does your arm hurt or something? No, just a little . . . party." And with a pop he disappeared. A party at the Malfoy Manor was always a wonderful distraction from anything. With that logic in mind, and hoping he might be able to forget this unhappiness surrounding Viola, Snape left the castle and apparated.

  
  


Malfoy's house was loud and full of people by the time Snape arrived. Lucius swung the door open before he had a chance to knock and led him inside with a grin. 

  
  


The foundation of the manor shook to the music. Severus was finding it difficult to keep his mind from wandering. He could smell pot wafting from a different room, and could see several lines being arranged on a mirror. 

  
  


"Severus, my friend, you're up." Lucius was looking exceptionally dashing today, his blond hair held out of his face by a strip of leather and his green shirt was half open. He handed Snape the mirror, off of which he relented to take one line. When handing the mirror back, Lucius's hand lingered slightly on his. He put his classically beautiful face close to Snape's ear and whispered, "There's someone I'd like you to meet, if you would kindly follow." Severus raised his eyebrows at him. 

  
  


"You just look so tense lately, I thought I would provide means with which to relax you." they navigated through the pulsating knots of people. 

  
  


'The coke, you mean?" Severus actually laughed. 

  
  


Lucius stopped him in front of the door to the library. "No, not that, but this is even better." He opened the door and gestured for Snape to enter first. Inside, the fire was lit in the grate and the room had a pleasant warm glow, illuminating the panelled walls and shelves of books. 

  
  


While Lucius locked the door securely behind them Severus glanced around the dim room and saw her sitting on an ottoman. 

  
  


"Lucius, you spoil me," the girl turned around to face the two men, smiling seductively. 

  
  


"I thought we could share her," Lucius whispered, and another subtly lingering hand floated over his shoulder. Severus suspected his old companion was hitting on him. He felt increasingly uncomfortable in this situation, but could not afford to leave and arouse suspicion. Normally he would have been delighted at this sort of presentation, but now he felt unexplainably guilty. 

  
  


The three of them did more cocaine, had a few drinks, and each took a hit of Extacy on top of that. Within an hour of being in that library, all thought had vacated Snape's mind, leaving nothing but drug-induced, euphoric sensations. 

  
  


Lucius screwed the firewhiskey cap back on, put his drugs away and carefully cleaned the small mirror. He twitched a couple times, barely noticeable except to Snape's quick eyes. Lucius was tweaking, and that meant that Snape was to. He tried to recall a time when he had taken more drugs, and came up with several. This was reassuring, but only slightly, and he regretted coming. There was nothing else to do though, and so he turned his attention to the woman. 

  
  


She looked to be about twenty five, very pretty and shapely. A thick brown braid laid a trail down her back, exactly the colour of her shrewd eyes. She approached him and touched his face. He felt it through his entire body. He was flying, trying desperately to remember why he shouldn't be doing this . . . but like any other time that he had taken X, the physical sensations were difficult to ignore. 

  
  


Malfoy stepped up behind her and pulled her shirt off over her head. He slowly took her hair out of it's braid. "What's your name again?" he murmured into her ear.

  
  


"Rachel." she leaned back into his torso as he flicked her bra open and took both large breasts into his hands. 

  
  


"Well, Rachel, what would you like to do for my friend Severus?"

  
  


She gave him another come-hither look, but he was watching Lucius's hands move over her stomach and hips, and he missed it. He swooped down on her and extracted her from the other man, who politely obliged to watch while slowly undressing.

  
  


Snape pressed her close, cupping her bottom in both hands. She squirmed against his growing arousal. She was lovely, as his roving hands would quickly reveal, but something about the shape of her felt wrong. Something about the length of her hair and the size of her chest . . . then a glimpse of her brown eyes and he knew what it was. Viola . . . A troublesome little Viola Rienne had lodged herself in his mind. Just the thought of her made his erection surge against Rachel's manicured hand. 

  
  


Severus stood back to remove his clothes as the room blurred and spun around him. Lucius appeared again, naked, and stroking himself. He knelt behind the girl and pulled her onto her knees. She moaned languidly when he reached around to her breasts, and leaned into his chest. Lucius removed her short wrap skirt, smirking to himself about the convenience of her clothing. Underneath the skirt she was naked. 

  
  


Snape was, for lack of any better words in my possession, tripping. Everything seemed to be in ridiculously slow motion. He looked down at himself and realized that he had succeeded in getting mostly naked. All that remained was his black shirt, opened, and he opted to keep that on. Besides, there was more important things to do, like putting his clothes on and going back to Hogwarts to find Viola . . .

  
  


Now where did that come from? He shook his head slightly, as if to clear it of so strange a thought. He couldn't leave, not now, not until he was sober enough to safely aparate. In the meantime . . .

  
  


The girl was bucking her hips against Lucius's teasing fingers, staring at Severus, or more accurately, at the entity between his legs. 

  
  


Can't leave just yet . . . he thought, dropping to his knees and wrenching Lucius's hand away from her sex. Can't leave, but there's still something I can do . . .

  
  


He gripped her hips hard to steady himself and slid into her, feeling a shiver of intense pleasure all over himself. She leaned into the other man's chest to take all of Severus in, and he noticed that she bore a Dark Mark where her pubic hair would be, marking her as one of Voldemort's own harem. Surely an expensive woman for the evening, and he puzzled as to the cause of Malfoy's generosity.

  
  


He thrust sharply into her twice before Lucius pushed her forward suddenly and entered her from behind. She cried out and dragged her nails down Snape's chest. He cried out to, but not from the scratches but from the feeling of Malfoy's cock as it moved beside his through her flesh.

  
  


Rachel would not let Severus kiss her mouth. Normally he would never have tried to, either, except he was not in his right mind and thoughts kept wandering back to Hogwarts, and more particularly to a certain blond Head Girl in the Slytherin dungeon. Damn her, she was ruining what could be a very interesting experience . . .

  
  


With strong hands, Lucius pulled her shoulders away from Severus. He swept her hair over one shoulder and bit her neck slightly. She gasped and then moaned, and a trickle of blood appeared where her neck met her shoulder. 

  
  


Lucius tasted her, dragging his tongue lightly over her skin, and then looked at Severus over her shoulder. There was a tiny droplet of crimson on his lower lip. He thrust into her harder and bent to her bleeding neck. She began to climax, and writhed against them, nearly screaming. Her blood tasted hot and foul to Severus, and he would have stopped, but Lucius halted him. 

  
  


He had placed his hand on the back of Snape's head, twining his fingers through dark hair. He flicked his tongue over Snape's, before surging into his mouth. They thrashed at each other with their mouths; it was the most turbulent kiss Snape had ever experienced. The three of them moved together roughly, the girl staring open mouthed as they slammed into her and kissed over her shoulder. 

  
  


Lucius came, and only then did he release his hold on Snape's hair. He immediately pulled himself out of the girl and hoisted himself gracefully into a chair. He rummaged through the pockets of his coat and revealed a pack of black, perfumed cigarettes. 

  
  


Snape came an instant later, and after that happened he doesn't remember anything else until . . . .

  
  


***********************

  
  


An avalanche of pain rolled through a head that weighed a million pounds. Light seared burning lines through reddish eyelids, and to top it off his goddamn arm was ASLEEP. His mouth tasted like cigarettes and whiskey, and his chin was rough with stubble. Truly this was a miserable morning in the life of Severus Snape.

  
  


He found himself in Lucius's grand four poster bed. It was a monstrosity of a thing, built to comfortably hold four people, it would seem, and hung with navy blue velvet drapes, and silk silver sheets.

  
  
  
  


The reason for his arm being asleep became apparent when he was able to fully open his eyes. Narcissa Malfoy slept beside him, blankets pulled down to her waist to display her white breasts. She was laying directly over his elbow. 

  
  


Slowly and carefully he pulled his arm free, wincing at the pins and needles that flooded his hand. He was wary of waking her; this was a very odd set of circumstances, and he wasn't sure he wanted to face what he had done right away. Once he was free of Narcissa, he rolled around with the intent of getting off the massive bed. 

  
  


On the other side of him, sleeping peacefully, but blocking his way, was the girl. Rachel. She was also naked, stretched out like a vamp on the sheets. Well, the only way out was over the foot of the bed. Fortunately Severus encountered no dormant women taking this route, and soon found his clothing folded up on a chair in the corner of the room. 

  
  


Well, it was the second morning in his life, and in a row, that he had woken up beside a woman. Two women even! Healthy adult relationships indeed. His head swam through a cloud of dizziness, and he suspected that he might be a little bit drunk. 

  
  


Lucius walked in then, wearing only a pair of boxers and holding a cup of coffee. "Ah, Severus, you're up," he drawled. Snape gave a grunt in reply while attempting to manoeuver himself into his pants without falling down. Once he was dressed, Malfoy handed him the coffee while eyeing the sleeping women still on the bed. "Quite an evening wasn't it?" 

  
  


Another distracted grunt from the other man, who was this time entertained by the coffee. 

  
  


"You look tired, Sev. I hope you're up to going to work?" When Lucius received a third unintelligent grumble from his usually articulate friend, he got slightly annoyed, and gleefully informed him that class started at Hogwarts in exactly ten minutes. Severus stumbled out as fast as he could and disapparated. 

  
  


***************************

  
  


The potions classroom was unusually dimly lit, and Snape could be seen downing a headache remedy as the students filed in. His seventh year class took their seats as quietly as possible, wary of the atmosphere of terrible hangover that lay around them.

  
  


Snape looked terrible. He had given himself a once over with his wand, so at least he was clean and shaved, but he still looked like a drunk who hadn't slept in ten years. Viola was the last student to enter the class. Every other seat was full except hers, which resided directly beside Brandon's. He raised a perfect eyebrow at her in a calmly dangerous manner. With quite a bit of trepidation, she moved to sit down beside him. Snape saw the raised eyebrow though, and the trepidation, and it irritated him in a way he couldn't explain. What was even more annoying was the feeling he got when he first saw her poke her head through the door. 

  
  


Everything about last night had been wrong. The party, the drugs, the sex, everything he could remember, and most likely the stuff he couldn't. Nothing about it had felt right, and it was because of her. Because he couldn't get her out of his mind. And now he had to . . . what? She was halfway to her chair, moving too slowly, eyes on Carter and shaking. 

  
  


"Miss Rienne, switch seats with someone." he commanded her. She looked up at him in shocked relief, nearly smiled, and took a seat that was offered to her by one of Brandon's friends, who went to go sit with him. Brandon looked furious again, and was glaring at Snape.

  
  


The lesson was agonisingly slow, full of accidents and explosions, but Snape seemed above it all today. He was too tired to care about melted cauldrons or singed eyebrows, and three students ended up in the hospital wing with minor, yet hilarious, injuries. He couldn't take too much of it, the noise was unbearable. He dismissed the class early and collapsed at his desk with his head in his hands. 

  
  


He though he was alone, but when he looked up in search of another headache potion, he noticed a student still sitting at her desk, watching him, and it would seem, waiting for him to address her.

  
  


"Viola," he said, by way of greeting. 

  
  


"Severus." she returned. 

  
  


"Don't you have somewhere else you'd rather be?" he heaved himself up and rummaged through vials for another pain killer. 

  
  


"Thank you, for letting me sit somewhere else." She looked down at her shoes. "You have no idea how much that means." 

  
  


"I can imagine." he shrugged. She looked awkward, and that made him feel awkward, and he wasn't appreciating it too much. He wanted her to either leave completely or come a lot closer. 

  
  


"Professor - "

  
  


"Back to titles are we? I thought we were on first name terms." 

  
  


"That would imply that we have more than a student teacher relationship." she said coldly. 

  
  


He got annoyed. "So what does sleeping together imply?" 

  
  


Her eyes narrowed. "Obviously nothing." 

  
  


Despite himself, he felt hurt. "Take your games somewhere else, miss Rienne."

  
  
  
  


She got up angrily and stood right in front of him, getting in his face. "My games? What about your games, Severus?" she emphasised his name. "Telling me . . . that you want me, and that I'm . . ." She choked on her words.

  
  


"You think I was lying?" his indignation startled her, but she continued on as if in the same breath. 

  
  


"And then just leaving without waking me up . . ." A fat tear rolled down her face as she stood before him. "You were so wonderful . . ." she confessed. "So different from . . . from him."

  
  


"Him? Carter?" Without thinking he stepped closer to her wiped her eyes with his sleeve. The gesture just brought a wave of fresh tears to her eyes. He wanted to comfort her, to make her stop because her crying was hurting him somehow. "What did he do to you?"

  
  


"You made me feel like everything was going to get better, and he would just leave me alone and I could be happy . . . but that was stupid I guess . . ." she shook her head and tried to take a step back, but he halted her with a hand on her back. He pulled her closer until she was leaning into his chest. She sighed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. 

  
  


"If he hurt you, Viola, tell me," he whispered, inhaling her perfume. He thought it might have been better if she didn't tell him though. He had a feeling he would kill the little bastard he knew that he had caused Viola harm. 

  
  


"Tell me . . ." he trailed off. Their faces had come closer together and now they were kissing. He was holding her and kissing her and it felt right. The touches he had shared with Rachel had been a travesty of affection compared to what he was feeling now. It was as if he would never touch another woman again except her, and the thought didn't bother him at all. 

  
  


The kiss started out being chaste, but she got onto her tiptoes and thrust her tongue into his mouth, tears stopping as she got caught up in the feeling of him. He felt a surge of arousal and suddenly he was impossibly hard and backing her up into a work table. His hands were all over her, undoing buttons and teasing ands stroking. He lifted her and sat her down on the edge of the table and she immediately wrapped her lags around his waist. Her skirt rode up her thighs and his cock pressed into her though her panties. 

  
  


Neither of them bothered to undress the other. There was nothing to do except succumb to one another, to connect and be one person again as soon as possible. She unzipped his pants and pulled him out, and he pushed her panties aside. She was wet and wanting him, gasping his name into his neck when he pushed into her. 

  
  


Slowly he rocked his hips into hers, nearly overcome by the heat and perfection of her. Each thrust felt better than the last, so good and right, and when he came he pressed harder into her centre and groaned, "I love you." into her neck. 

  
  
  
  


**************************

  
  


Severus said I love you? Ah! What's going on? Does he really love her or is he just saying that in the name of passion and orgasms? Find out on the next episode of Too Nice For Slytherin!

  
  


Review please, or a curse on all your houses.

Love Jeni

XOXOXO


	19. it's almost over everyone

Chapter 19, What I would call "The Climax".

  
  


Viola left that classroom in a daze, heading off automatically to Arithmancy. Her lower lip tingled rather impressively; she had bitten it. She had bitten it when Snape said he loved her, and she had to forcefully stop herself from saying it back. She didn't mind the sharp pain it had caused, because it was so important that she not let herself believe that she was in love with Snape. That was ridiculous.

  
  


Not in love with him perhaps, but it sure was hard to tell. She couldn't seem to stop thinking about him, and until now she hadn't even noticed that she no longer had a crush on him, but something much, much more. This needed to stop, she decided. That was quite enough, it was going too far. She was not in love with Snape! What would everyone think? 

  
  


She couldn't stay away though, it was impossible, she felt like she was too far gone to fight it anymore. She was lonely; the next couple of weeks were completely devoted to studying, NEWTS were approaching after all, and everyone was absorbed in their own notes and revision. She avoided Brandon like the plague, and he seemed content to keep his distance as well, at least for the time being. She thought his decision to leave her alone might have something to do with Snape staring him down from the staff table when he approached her during meals. She allowed herself to think that it was finally over, and she might not have to worry about him anymore. This thought pleased her immensely, and she was prepared to start moving on with her life a little bit at a time. She wanted to see Severus again.

  
  


It took her three weeks to get up the nerve to go to him, three weeks of staring at him in Potions classes and getting the same heated look in return. She was convinced that he would not turn her away, and so she found herself in front of his door one evening, debating with herself. 

  
  


It was hardly a long debate. She made up her mind and knocked quietly. 

  
  


*************************

  
  


Brandon saw her. 

  
  


She would have had no way of knowing he was there; he was very quiet, sneaky, following her. He had tailed her through the halls with the intention of having her again, forcefully, the way he knew she liked it. This endless studying for exams was leaving students high strung, and Brandon was feeling an urge to blow off a little steam with his girl. He hoped she would put up a fight, so he would have the pleasure of restraining her, maybe hurting her . . . it all felt so good to think about. 

  
  


He saw her from under his invisibility cloak (a gift from dad) at the other end of the corridor. He watched, slightly confused, as she knocked on Snape's door. 

  
  


He was consumed by the sight of her, the way she looked when she thought she was alone. He enjoyed watching her this way, keeping an eye on her. He assumed she needed some assistance with homework; why else would she need to see Snape? That Viola, he smiled to himself, always so meticulous with homework, so enthusiastic to succeed. Pointless for her to even try, of course, a muggle like her couldn't hope to succeed in this world. All she would ever be was his whore, the Dark Lord would make sure of it soon, if what his father had been preaching all these years turned out to be true. 

  
  


Snape's door creaked open slowly, and Brandon's insides turned to ice at what he saw. The Potions Master hesitated slightly when he saw who was at his door, but it took only a few seconds for him to enfold Viola in a gentle embrace, drawing her into his rooms while he kissed her and shutting the door behind them. Brandon felt additional wards going up around the room, and the door flickered and then became invisible, a blank wall. 

  
  


He stood there for what seemed like a long time, fists clenched at his sides, not making a sound except for his heavy breathing whistling in and out of his nostrils. Never had he felt such rage, such hatred for anything. This went beyond his usual fits of temper, beyond his violent urges. This anger emptied him of feeling, leaving a frighteningly rational person in its place. A simple, rather clever plan formed in his head, one that he was sure would work. He simply needed to employ some rumours he had heard around the common room, rumours he had never believed about Snape but served his purpose now. Plotting his sabotage, he made his way to the owlery, grinning like a Cheshire cat. 

  
  


****************************

  
  


Albus Dumbledore was just heaving himself out of his ornate armchair with a despondent sigh, feeling quite a bit older than normal. He still had work to do, but felt far to weary to even look at it. He was just waving the passage to his personal rooms open with his wand when he heard a frantic scratching at his window.

  
  


Surprised, he turned around to witness one of the school owls scrabbling madly at the glass with its claws, its eyes wide and desperate, with a note crumpling it its beak. The old headmaster's curiosity was prickled, and forgetting his fatigue momentarily, he moved to the window to let the creature in. The poor owl was in such a state of excitement that Albus was unusually tempted to break its little neck in exasperation. Once he read the brief, anonymous note though, all he could feel was hideous dread. His throat dry, sleep forgotten, he rushed off as fast as he could to the dungeons. 

  
  


***********************

  
  


Viola wasted no time with words. Without breaking the kiss she began to unbutton Snape's robes as he carelessly warded the room with one hand. Their clothes ended up everywhere; they laughed together, throwing robes and undergarments onto the floor. His shirt ended up on a doorknob, her jeans slung over the back of a chair. 

  
  


Viola shrieked with laughter when he lifted her on top of his grand piano, and it was so infectious that he was forced to join in as he hoisted himself on top of her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and giggled when his erection poked her thigh. 

  
  


"Stop stabbing me!" she grinned and nipped his neck playfully. 

  
  


He grinned back, in unusually high spirits, and gave her opening another little jab. "Take that, Miss Rienne." 

  
  


"I will take nothing of the sort, Professor Snape." 

  
  


His tongue darted out to flick her nipple teasingly while he slipped himself inside her. She gripped his shoulders and pulled him closer, laying her head down on the cool ebony of the piano, sighing as he thrust powerfully. 

  
  


Later they tumbled somewhat clumsily onto his bed, their arms about each other, completely naked and obviously aroused. He hovered over her, kissed her cheeks and mouth , pinched and tweaked her nipples into hard peaks and teased her opening with the tip of his erection. She smiled at him mischievously as she dragged her nails lightly down his chest and wrapped her hand around his cock, squeezing until he gasped. She felt drunk with lust; her head was spinning and she ached with the need to feel him inside of her again. She attempted to pull him into her but he brushed her hands away, raising a crafty eyebrow. 

  
  


"Patience, Love, or I may have to restrain you." the velvet chocolate voice was tangible on her skin, causing her to shiver deliciously. He set about kissing her again, probing her mouth deeply with his tongue and sweeping his rough hands up and down her body. Her hands tangled in his hair and she bucked her hips upward, seeking some sort of friction.

  
  


He placed his palm over the triangle of blond hair at her pelvis and gently made her lie still, still with that eyebrow arched irresistibly. 

  
  


"Please stop teasing me, Severus." she pretended to pout, and he actually laughed.

  
  


"My dear Viola, I plan on driving you thoroughly mad before I take you."

  
  


"You're evil."

  
  


He made no reply, only smirked, and with a firm hand on her belly to prevent her from squirming, darted his tongue over her clitoris. She gasped and he looked at her thoughtfully for a second or two before getting off the bed and rummaging around in one of the drawers of his armoire. 

  
  


"What are you looking for?" she inquired, making herself more comfortable on his down filled pillows. He turned back around to face her, unconcerned about his nudity and blatant desire, with a long green silk sash held loosely in his hands. 

  
  


"I wonder if you might enjoy . . ." he walked back to her and knelt on the bed. "Many people do, you see." And he proceeded to tie her wrists to the slats of his headboard. 

  
  


Right away Viola's guts clenched into a tight knot. She breathed deeply and closed her eyes. She could trust him, she knew she could, and so she allowed him to restrain her, willing herself to concentrate only on the pleasurable things he was doing to her. When his mouth drifted again below her navel and into her most private region her whole body went rigid, and her arms tugged at the bonds. The knot tightened, not yet uncomfortably so, but it reminded her too vividly and for a terrifying second she was convinced that when she opened her eyes she would see Brandon leering at her instead of Severus. She was afraid to pull on the sash anymore, because if she did it would get tighter and bite into her skin and cut her . . .

  
  


"Stop."

  
  


He stopped.

  
  


"Untie me."

  
  


He untied her without hesitation. 

  
  


"Thank you." she couldn't meet his eyes.

  
  


He lay down beside her and pulled her into a soft hug, letting her rest her head on his chest. 

  
  


"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "It's not that I don't trust you."

  
  


"You don't have to apologize if I did something you didn't like." he assured her.

"I wanted to let you, but . . ."

  
  


"Is this what he did to you?" he gestured as if to indicate the whole bondage situation. 

  
  


She hesitated. "Yes." she said after a moment of contemplation. 

  
  


Snape was enraged. Having his suspicions regarding Brandon Carter confirmed made him want desperately to seek the little bastard out and inflict some sort of horrible pain. 

  
  


Viola saw the dangerous glint in his eyes and sought to remove it. Both hands on the sides of his head, she planted a hearty kiss on his mouth, pulling him over until he was straddling her.

  
  


"Don't be angry," she pleaded with him, looking directly into obsidian eyes, their noses barely an inch apart. "Lets just enjoy ourselves, he's never going to touch me again."

  
  


"If he ever does, I'll - "

  
  


"He won't." she interrupted, then kissed him again. The kiss deepened and they both got carried away, nearly clawing at each other by the time Severus pulled away. He dangled the discarded sash suggestively in front of her. 

  
  


"Would you like to try this on me?"

  
  


She pondered this proposition for a minute or two, blushing cutely as he egged her on. Finally, she took the sash from him and used it to bind him to the bed the way he had done to her.

  
  


The two of them had a great time with their little game. Viola quickly got used to the idea of being in control and began to enjoy torturing him. She teased him mercilessly with her mouth and hands until he was nearly ready to beg for his release. 

  
  


"Oh yes . . ." He hissed when she slowly lowered herself onto him, leaning forward to release his hands, which he then placed on her hips, guiding her movements. They moved lazily together, breathing together, and finally they finished together. It was the most sublime thing either of them had ever felt, and they were simultaneously asleep within seconds.

  
  


*********************

  
  


A loud, urgent pounding on the door woke Severus prematurely. Viola slept peacefully on, unaware, on his chest. The knocking persisted, and he knew it must be Albus there; who else would be able to find the door?

  
  


He carefully got himself out from under Viola, managing miraculously not to wake her. He threw on a dressing gown and knotted it tightly around the waist as he made his way to the door. He swung it open and there was Dumbledore, fist still raised to knock on the now absent door.

  
  


Snape swallowed hard and regained his composure immediately. "May I help you, Albus?" he asked graciously in his usual drawl.

  
  


"Severus, are you alright?" He looked pale and aged with anxiety. 

  
  


"Of course, I was just about to retire . . ." he made as if to shut the door but Dumbledore stopped him and entered the room. As fast as he could, Snape slammed the door to his bedroom closed with a flick of his wand. Albus started slightly at the loud bang, and looked suspiciously at the door, which was now locking itself. 

  
  


"I received a note informing me that you were hurt, Severus." The old man explained, still eyeing the door with a calculating expression.

  
  


"Pardon?" Snape was genuinely confused. 

  
  


"An anonymous letter, that stated you were badly injured was sent to me by means of one of the school owls, and I merely came to see if you were in need of assistance." the fear had left the old man's face, and his eyes twinkled with relief. "I'm glad to see that it is not so." He spotted Snape's shirt, dangling carelessly from the bathroom doorknob and smiled. "I shall get to the bottom of this prank tomorrow." he indicated Viola's jeans, hanging from the back of a chair. "It looks as if you have company."

  
  


Severus's heart fell, and he wondered if he had just been caught. "Headmaster, let me explain the circumstances -"

  
  


"No need to explain, Severus, there is nothing wrong with seeking out a bit of company . . ." he trailed off, smile gone, suddenly bemused. He had just noticed Viola's uniform robe laying in a black puddle on the floor. 

  
  


Everything crumbled just then. 

  
  


"Severus, a student?" he lifted the robe, as if looking for a name on the inside of the collar. He spotted the Head Girl badge first though, shiny and damning, pinned to the front. "What were you thinking? I asked you to keep an eye on her!" he flung the robe to the floor in disgust. "Get her out of your bed, into her clothes, and into my office immediately." The old man was livid, Snape had only ever seen him this angry once before, and he had been a child then, just as frightened as he was now. As Dumbledore turned to storm out, Severus felt his left arm begin to throb mysteriously. 

  
  


*************************

  
  


The headmaster stood and went to the window, where a sleek black bird had perched and begun scratching at the glass patiently. The moment Albus had removed the letter from the strange bird's leg it was off again, screeching loudly as it tore out into the evening outside. Dumbledore read the note and, sighing heavily, refolded it as he took his seat across from Viola. 

  
  


She refused to look at him. She hung her head and looked diminished, mortified. Her hair was dishevelled and her lips were red and swollen still from rough kisses; normally those features on a woman would appear beautiful, the immaculate glow of a thoroughly loved woman was impressive and a lovely thing, but on her, one of his own children, it looked horridly lecherous.

  
  


It took him a long time to speak, all the while watching her watching her Head Girl badge sitting on the desk between them. She finally met his eyes by inclining her head, looking bleak, and the old man found his voice. 

  
  


"I'm sorry to do this Viola," he spoke slowly and a bit apologetically, "But I'm afraid I must terminate your education here at Hogwarts."

  
  


She didn't even flinch, or show any sign that her worst fears had just been confirmed. She looked down again at her knees. 

  
  
  
  


He continued: "You may continue your magical education through correspondence, or if necessary I will provide a tutor. You can take your NEWTS in the summer, but I must insist that you leave the school as soon as possible, tomorrow, if you can pack in time for the train."

  
  


"I will, Headmaster." her voice was hollow and dead sounding. Remorse welled up against the Headmaster's old heart, and he became slightly angry, at himself rather then at her, but he found himself nearly yelling at her anyway.

  
  


"You brought this on yourself child. You lied to me and put yourself in an unstable situation, you had to have known that you would be caught. If Professor Snape in any way pressured you into this -"

  
  


"Severus didn't force me to do anything." a tear dropped from her downcast eyes and hit her knee with a tiny splash. She watched the fabric of her robe absorb it while waiting for him to speak again. 

  
  


He couldn't chastise her anymore, she was too obviously depressed. And he knew she wasn't upset about her expulsion, either. He could tell it was about Snape; it was breaking her young heart to have to leave him. With a hopeless sigh he summoned Severus with a pinch of floo powder. "Severus, your turn." he spoke to the man's head in the fireplace, then turned back to Viola, looking her square in the face. "Do no contact Severus Snape after you leave, for any reason."

  
  


"Will he lose his job over this?" she looked fearful. 

  
  


"He will be leaving as well, yes. You may go start packing please." he dismissed her, and that was the end of that. 

  
  


Briefly she wondered why she was not permitted to contact him, if he was going to be losing his job. She didn't see why the two of them couldn't be together, since neither of them had any affiliation with the school any longer. She wondered only briefly, though, and left before she could ask. 

  
  


Viola left the Headmaster's office feeling as if she were made of lead. She was dreading the thought of packing, cringing under the harsh jeers from those blasted girls, hearing them cheer when she dragged her trunk up to the entrance hall and out of the school forever . . . Tears threatened to override her, and her chest felt heavy in the absence of her badge. She knew Severus would now be on his way to the office, probably ready to turn the corner at any moment, on his way to unemployment. She couldn't bear to stick around; the fear of taking responsibility for losing him his job was terrible, and she was too ashamed of herself to even steal a last kiss. 

  
  


Packing could be done tomorrow, she decided, setting off shakily down the hallway. Before she was even out of site of Dumbledore's office, she heard heavy footsteps approaching her around the corner. Viola, suspecting that it was Snape, threw her gaze down and carefully watched her feet walk, grotesquely humiliated and too dejected to even look at him. All she wanted to do was forget everything for just a few hours, delay the pain for only a little while to try to straiten her head out. 

  
  
  
  


Had it been Snape coming around the corner she would have been able to put her plan into immediate action, but unfortunately for her, someone else was lurking around the hallways, seeking her out. More unfortunate still: Snape was a few dangerous minutes behind this gentleman, oblivious, and taking his sweet time to get there. Had it only been Snape there, the situation would likely have gone quite a bit more smoothly. 

  
  


Brandon rounded the corner on her at last, his previous temper now increased tenfold; she had never seen him so angry. The second she saw his expensive shoes her eyes snapped to his face, watching him carefully. 

  
  


"Go away Brandon, I'm not ever going to see you again." Her voice sounded even and calm, surprisingly. 

  
  


He exploded in tumultuous volume, advancing on her with fists clenched. Severus heard him even from his distance, and sped up his pace considerably. 

  
  


"VIOLA YOU FUCKING WHORE!" He bellowed, backing her up into the wall. She sat down and tried to make herself as small as possible, covering her head with her arms, praying Dumbledore would hear him from his office and help her before she was killed. Brandon yanked her up by one wrist and pinned her to the wall. "HOW COULD YOU GO TO HIM? HOW COULD YOU FUCK SOMEONE ELSE, AFTER I'D HAD YOU AND YOU KNEW YOU WERE MINE?" he wound up and punched her right in the stomach and prevented her from doubling over with a white-knuckled grip on her hair. She wanted to cry out, but had only enough air in her lungs to moan in anguish. 

  
  


"YOU SLUT! FUCKING MUDBLOOD TRAMP, I CAN SMELL HIM ON YOU!" he punched her again, this time on the chest, sending painful bolts into her breasts. He began to pummel her, she was seeing lights burst behind tightly sealed eyelids. His screams were punctuated by the hateful thud of his blows on her flesh. Now she was screaming in pain and terror and couldn't stop herself, couldn't do anything to get away from him. 

  
  


"I TOOK YOU AND MADE YOU MINE! YOU SHOULDN'T EVEN BE LOOKING AT OTHER PEOPLE, AND YOU SLEEP AROUND WITH TEACHERS! HOW MUCH DID HE PAY YOU TO FUCK HIM? I'LL MAKE YOU DIE, BITCH -" he was suddenly pulled away from her. She opened her eyes just in time to see Snape, Severus, deliver a stunning blow to Brandon's jaw. 

  
  


"Severus!" a booming voice sounded from the entrance to the Headmaster's office. She couldn't turn her head to see its source, she was glued to what was happening before her, almost in slow motion. Snape's arm outstretched, his robes billowing out in his trademark fashion; he was putting every ounce of his weight into this punch. His brooding face looked unusually passionate, and his over-emotion had driven colour to his cheeks. Brandon's lip split against his teeth, and a fine spray of blood speckled his face and Snape's fist red. 

  
  


The slow-motion effect ended abruptly and Carter dropped to the ground instantly, groaning faintly, but not moving. 

  
  


"Severus, get into my office now." 

  
  


Snape looked up, his face blank, to finally notice that Dumbledore had been approaching them as fast as his old age would allow. 

  
  


Snape was breathing hard. "I should escort Viola to the hospital wing, Albus." she noticed the use of her first name. 

  
  


"She can make it there herself, Severus, in my office now."

  
  


Before anyone could speak again, Viola hurried away.

  
  


***********************

  
  


Neither man had touched his tea. It sat between them on the small table, chilling slowly under the icy glares that were being exchanged. Finally, Dumbledore spoke; in a firm voice that left no room for argument or interruption, he delivered his carefully weighted speech to the stony-faced Potions Master. It began obscurely, like so: "Severus, what can you tell me from your last Death Eater meeting?"

  
  


Snape was startled, but managed to hide it. He had forgotten to see Dumbledore after that meeting, he had been . . .

  
  


"It was hardly a meeting, Headmaster, but the general atmosphere spoke volumes." He let out a deeply held breath. "They are going to move soon, very soon. I don't know when, he will summon us when the time comes."

  
  


"Severus, you will leave this school. Don't say anything!" he raised his hand to halt the younger man, who was opening his mouth to protest. "You will leave this school, and you will leave the country. Your employment here is terminated."

  
  


"Why should I leave the country?" Snape didn't think Dumbledore could ever get angry enough to not want to share a country with someone. The loss of his job, however, was not so surprising. His left arm still ached and he rubbed his Dark Mark absently. 

  
  


Instead of answering right away, Dumbledore threw a piece of folded parchment his way. Severus, confused, read the letter silently. By the time he was halfway through it his face was hot with anger; by the end he was terrified:

  
  


Dear Professor Dumbledore,

It has been brought to my attention by the offspring of one of my dearest followers, that my servant, Severus Snape, is in fact working for you as well. I am of course aware of his employment at your school, but I am referring instead to Severus's espionage. 

True, I have noticed a decline in his enthusiasm and performance, and maybe I should have seen it when he failed to end your life so many years ago, but I never imagined he would defect from me.

I understand that he has probably been a great assistance to your noble cause, that of destroying yours truly, but I am afraid I cannot let a thing like this go unpunished. I apologize beforehand for killing our mutual puppet, but you must understand how important it is for me to make an example of him. 

I'll see you soon Albus, 

Lord Voldemort.

  
  


The forthright politeness of the letter chilled Severus profoundly, as did the ominous closing statement and signature scratched neatly into the parchment in scathing red ink. He looked up despairingly at Dumbledore, at a loss for words. 

  
  


"Severus, I don't even want to discuss your affair with Miss Rienne, or your assault on the Carter boy. I have dealt with Viola and the authorities will deal with Brandon. You are, as I said before, to leave the country. Do not inform anyone of your whereabouts, not even me." the words were heavy and final.

  
  


"He's going to kill me," was all Snape could say. His mind wrenched with memories, thoughts, all the things he had seen done to people, that they could do to him . . .

  
  


"Don't think about it Severus." finally there was some feeling in that voice, some sympathy. "And another thing, under no circumstances are you to contact Viola Rienne. I won't have you putting her in danger."

  
  


"I wouldn't dream of it." he didn't think he could live without her.

  
  


********************* 

Viola didn't bother with the hospital wing, Brandon was being trundled off by madame Pomfrey already and she wanted to avoid any location that housed him. Besides, there wasn't enough time. Instead she went outside into the chilly evening air and walked briskly strait to the greenhouses. She pushed open the door against the wind and there they all were, sitting at the other end of the long building amongst the slithering vines. Her friends. 

  
  


They looked up simultaneously when they heard the door creak, identically startled. They looked at her for a second or two, silent. Gwendolen smiled warmly, then looked back to whatever she was drawing. Brianna waved, indicating that she should join them. Randy looked steadily at his hands, which were busy rolling a rather large joint. She felt nervous in his presence, but he was the first to address her. 

  
  


"Get over here babe, I've got a fattie that wants to meet you."

  
  
  
  


So thankful and relieved, she went to sit with them. She felt self-conscious, she knew she must look pretty rough, a little battered and bruised, but they didn't comment and she loved them for that. 

  
  


Eventually, as the smoke clouded around them, the tension went away and things were just as they should be. Randy made some stupid comment when Gwendolen pulled out her homework and they all laughed, Viola the hardest. 

  
  


"What's my horoscope today Gwenny?" she asked. 

  
  


"As if you still believe that divination shit," Randy scoffed at her, his voice sounding choked from the smoke he held in his lungs. He passed the dwindling joint to Gwendolen, who puffed idly as she consulted her star chart. 

  
  


"Saturn is in Capricorn today, which means . . . you should . . . I don't understand what this means, Vi." she paused and passed the roach to Brianna. "I think this is wrong, it means you should be heading somewhere soon, like tomorrow, but Easter holiday isn't for months . . ." she consulted further, with the rapt attention of her friends following her every movement. Viola got handed the joint and she relished the taste of it; it had been so long since she last smoked, and it made her cough. "Here, this is simpler, Capricorn is sad today, getting her shit together today, and I guess this is to what we owe the pleasure of your company?"

  
  


"You got it, Gwenny dear, it has been far too long." she answered, smiling slightly. 

  
  


"You're goddamn right Vi," Randy interjected. "We missed you."

  
  


"Yeah, thank god you're 'getting your shit together', as Gwenny so eloquently put it." Brianna grinned. 

  
  


"Gwenny puts everything eloquently." Randy took the joint back from Viola, decided it was too small, and roached it. 

  
  


Viola decided not to tell them she was leaving just yet. She was worried it would ruin the evening, and she so crucially needed to enjoy herself. 

  
  


Much later, after the four of them had burned out, they left the greenhouse together and walked slowly (what is commonly known among my friends as 'stoner pace') to the castle. Viola held the door open for all of them, and perhaps by pure chance she glanced over her shoulder on the way in and paused.

  
  


A dark figure was making its way through the gates, and Viola watched him leave with a heavy heart, flooded with some unfamiliar sort of regret that could only be Love. 

  
  


Randy noticed her staring and looked. "I wonder where Snape is going?" He mused, largely uninterested, and continued on his way with Brianna. Gwendolen, though, stayed behind, watching the tall form of the Potions Master disappear. 

  
  


"You know Viola, I'm a much better astrologer than I let on, and there was an important bit of your horoscope that I didn't want to say in front of everyone."

  
  


Tears spilled unchecked out of Viola's eyes when Severus was completely out of sight. She looked bleakly at Gwen, curious. 

  
  


"The two of you . . ." she wavered, wondering how exactly to explain what she had seen, fighting tears herself. "You will end up together, the two of you." she choked, and couldn't say anymore. She hugged her friend tightly and ran to catch up with Randy and Brianna, praying silently and with all her heart and soul that the misfortune the stars had spelled out for Viola and her lover would never come to pass.

  
  


******************************

  
  


Well, I bet you all though I was dead. The last chapter is written and finished, all I have to do is type it and post it. 

Please review, I need my crack. 

Love Jeni

XOXOXOXOXOXOX 


	20. Author's Note

Sorry that there is no chapter yet, but I assure you that it is only a matter of time. I have had to write it  
  
a few times, revise it, change it . . . . I guarantee you it will be grand. You may not like it, I'm not even  
  
sure I like it, but it doesn't matter because this story has to end.   
  
This is my author's note. I have not much to say, except thank you very much to all of you who read  
  
this and reviewed it. I didn't get a lot of reviews as far as this section of the website goes, but the ones I  
  
got were all good, and it's quality that I go for!  
  
To ashleyconnor: thank you for the long and detailed review! By the way, a roach is the end of a joint,  
  
when it gets just about too small to hold onto. Well, that's what it means around here anyway. Drug  
  
slang can be very different in different places. I could drive two hours away from where I am, and not  
  
have a clue what the stoners are talking about.   
  
Thanks very much also to Sombra De Severus, Be Boring, ~GrimDani~, lilegyptiangoddess, Crystal  
  
Raven, Georgie, shang-wombat, WiccaRowan, Mana Rosa, christine, Mickat, mary32, cunning_angel,  
  
some person who calls themselves "A", megan, teshara, Sos, lia, Sombra, Dylan S. Thompson, White  
  
Raven, Courtney, Cola Tyger, Rebecca, Princess Fish, Liv, Nevyn, Sabrina, Parselmouth, Wolf, I think  
  
another person named wolf who knows Paul Henderson, Vanessa, MiZ PuNk, blackrose87, MCMish,  
  
mermaidgirl, Moria Polonius, and girlLuka. Yes, I think that's all of you . . . hope I didn't leave anyone  
  
out!  
  
I'm glad you all liked it! In a day or two when the last chapter is up, you may like it no more. Which  
  
is why I have my author's note here, before the end, and before you all hate me.   
  
I'm glad that you liked Viola. Not surprising, but she is a lot like me, and that means you all like me!  
  
We share the same birthday, tattoo, love of tall dark and handsome men, love of pot and shrooms, and the  
  
same habits. Her friends, even, are based on my own friends. Some of you have told me that my  
  
characters are believable, and that's why! They're practically real people.   
  
It's taken a very long time to get this far, and now it's practically over. I wonder if there is anyone  
  
still there, reading this right now, who has been reading it since I started writing it. That would be neat,  
  
and if so, we've been through a lot together. A couple birthdays and Christmases, April 20th s and entire  
  
semesters of school. I ditched one very bad boyfriend, who was very much an inspiration for Brandon,  
  
and now have a very good one.   
  
I wrote this story for therepy. I needed to get everything out, and this humble fanfic has been a  
  
remarkable outlet. All the chaos and pain in Viola's life mirrored my own, and she has helped me come  
  
to terms with my problems better than any real person ever could have done. I no longer bring harm to  
  
myself, I feel it isn't necessary any more. It's hard to even admit, still, that I did do it at one point, but  
  
simple to say that I don't do it anymore. It feels good. My scars won't ever go away; I don't have the  
  
benifit of a healing potion like Viola did, but I find that I don't mind them as much. They get harder to  
  
notice. They don't matter.   
  
Thank you all so very much for your support. The only thing I have ever wanted to do with my life is  
  
write, and you have been very encouraging.   
  
You will see the last chapter very soon!   
  
Love always from  
  
Jeni  
  
XOXOXOXOXOXOX 


	21. the End

Chapter 20

She was barely a teen, hangin' out in-between, just a part of the scene.  
With mercurial smile, and incurable style, she was only a dream.  
How's that, he didn't know a thing about making love to the kind of girl you  
read about.  
  
He said I'm bound to be broken  
My Daddy bet that I'd amount to nothing  
he won't let anybody show him anything.  
  
He was a troubled child, had been down for a while, always kept to himself,  
Though she couldn't defend, he only wanted a friend, now he's made something else.  
It's so sad, no one saw it coming,  
The paper said that he hit the ground running.  
  
When the world is turning for you, don't turn on me.  
Who are you here to repair, well I don't know what you mean.  
You could never resist glorifying despair, well now it's coming to you and I  
don't really care.

Broken, Bad Religion. 

*****************************

Two weeks later, 10:00 P.M..

It was awfully chilly, and a sudden draft compelled Brandon to wrap his blanket tightly around his shoulders. He shivered on his hard cot, his bare feet numb and frozen. He felt, however, just dandy: Azkaban seemed to be having no negative effect whatsoever on his mentality. Oh, he was in tip-top shape all right, having a damn great time. His father had visited him not long ago, to inform him that his sentence had been shortened to three months for the assault on the girl. The rape charge, filed by Albus Dumbledore, had been dismissed, and rightly so, Brandon thought. She had wanted it as much as he had. 

A sudden, insane burst of laughter tore from him, racked his body at the thought of her. His father had brought more good news than just the light sentence. More laughter, a mirthless sad peal. Oh, she's in for it now. 

He laughed like that all through the night, building in intensity until the night watch came and sedated him.

***************************

If Azkaban was cold, then northern Ontario was a fucking glacier. Severus was wearing long underwear, fucking longjohns. And he was still cold. 

He wondered for the billionth time why he had chosen this godforsaken armpit of the Canadian shield. There was six feet of snow in his yard. Spring had practically started, the locals told him; also that he had missed the worst of the cold. It hadn't been forty degrees below in a couple of weeks. 

So he was cold, and above all, bored. He had no contact with a single living soul. All he had to link him to anyone was the mark on his arm, which only hurt once and a while now. Just enough for him to know that they still wanted him. Anything else had to be done with a computer, and he had the internet to keep up with the goings on in his home country. The only other thing that brought him any amount of happiness was the Daily Show with Jon Stewart. 

He was miserable and restless. There was nothing to do. He went to bed and dreamed of her, not of sex, but of her. In his dream, he had taken her with him to Ontario, and she was wearing longjohns to . . .

************************

Viola was awake. She found that sleep was impossible; this place no longer felt right. The bed she had slept in as a child was now so empty and virulent that she couldn't stand to stay in it for another night. Her parents slept in the next room, and her brother beyond them.

He always seemed to be on her mind, her lovely brooding paramour. She smiled bitterly to herself at the absurdity of this title: Dumbledore had said that, put the word into her head. She wasn't sure what it meant. She couldn't wait for Randy to come home for Easter. 

A muffled voice sounded from the hallway, near the door to the apartment. It startled her and interrupted her pointless thoughts. When the voice had quieted, she heard the apartment door creak open. 

She shut her eyes tightly and pulled the blankets up past her eyes. Someone was laughing.

****************************

Some time later, an excerpt from a newspaper: 

LONDON: What many residents assumed was just a fire drill in a mid-city apartment complex has turned into a baffling mystery to city police. The fire started on the third floor of a low budget complex; it was minor, confined to one room. At first it seemed as if everyone had safely vacated. 

Four bodies were found in the apartment where the fire was started, all in the master bedroom and not noticeably burned. Autopsies show no sign of smoke inhalation, indicating that the fire was started after the family was dead. No cause of death can be determined, which has caused medical professionals in the area a lot of confusion. Evidence has confirmed police suspicions of arson and murder, and are looking for any leads which may lead them to the person or people guilty of the deaths of the Rienne family . . .

There was a picture on the website with the article. It was a muggle photo, but a faint green shimmering form hovered above the building. A few of the people in the picture had their heads craned up, as if they saw it to. Severus saw it: it was a skull, captured by the muggle camera. No one else but a wizard would be able to see it in the photo, and wizards don't read muggle news. He wondered if there was anything about this in the Daily Prophet. Probably not, but he had no time to check. There were things to do, potions to brew. 

His chest felt like it was going to implode, and his arm didn't hurt anymore. 

******************************

Professor Sprout left the Hufflepuff common room, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. The sobs of the three friends followed her: she had just told them Viola was dead. 

Dumbledore was waiting for her outside, and Sprout was moved to fresh tears at the sight of him. Tears ran from hollow red eyes into his beard and he looked a hundred years older than he was. It was obvious whom he blamed for the death of his student. 

Inside, beyond the portrait hole, the anguished cries of the children tore the Professors' hearts apart. 

**********************

It had been so many years, but Severus still recalled every ingredient to the complicated potion. In the basement of his rented house he worked all day and night, heedless of the cold that chapped and blistered his bare feet on the concrete floor. 

He was like a machine, moving but not thinking. He knew thoughts right now could destroy him, so he pushed them away as much as he was able to. Regardless of his efforts, her face sprang unbidden into his mind, first smiling and seraphic as he remembered her, and then cold and dead, as she was now. Every time this image came to him he went off on another flurry of productivity on the potion. 

By the time the sun came up, he was looking at a tiny vial full of black, sparkling liquid. 

******************

The service was held two days after the autopsies. Friends and family of the deceased had gathered, including many students and Professors of Hogwarts.

Severus missed the funeral, but he hadn't wanted to attend it anyway. The instant he aparated in London his arm flared red hot, and numbing pain went all the way up to his collarbone. They would know he was back. They would come after him. He hardly cared. 

*****************************

There was a gathering at the Malfoy manor. 

It was a hastily arranged get-together with little preparation, but this was not intended to be a party. 

Voldemort was there. He had arrived before anyone else. He was clearly excited about something. The Dark Lord abandoned all ceremonies and spoke to his followers while they scrambled into their robes and masks: 

"The planning is over my friends!" He shouted gallantly. "We are ready, everything is finally prepared and the timing is perfect. That school is empty, Dumbledore isn't there." His speech was met with awed, shocked silence. 

"Without Dumbledore Hogwarts is finally penetrable, his protection isn't as strong. Without the school he is nothing, and we will have the children to negotiate with." There was a scattering of snickers. 

"Lord, a minute?" The whiny voice of Wormtail piped up. He was treated to a venomous glare but went on speaking anyway. "Snape is back, in London. He just aparated, I detected his mark."

A smile curled Voldemort's lipless mouth. "He must have heard about the girl. I'm glad we got to her first. Poor Severus." His leering grin grew more hideous with his mirth. "Lucius?" He called out, suddenly grim and serious. 

A single figure pushed through the identically attired Death Eaters, indistinguishable. "Yes Lord?" Spoke the voice of Lucius Malfoy from beyond the mask. 

"Track Severus down, and bring him to Hogwarts to join us for the festivities."

Even Malfoy was a little afraid when Voldemort began to laugh. 

***********************

Snape didn't appear right outside the church, but about a ten minute walk from it. This was his plan; he would likely be noticed by Albus if he popped up too close. He was only noticed by a pair of young Asian girls, who looked slightly confused, as if they weren't sure of what they had just seen. 

It was cold out, but compared to Canada it was a summer dream. Nonetheless he was bundled in his black leather overcoat. The one she had worn. He kept his head down as he walked, hoping that the turned up collar of the coat, plus his windblown hair, would obscure his face sufficiently. He knew he would only have a few minutes to do what he had to do before they got to him, and so he hurried through the crowded streets, determined and resolute.

He rounded a corner and the church came into sight. It was small and humble, maybe Protestant or Anglican, he didn't know or care. People were filing out, loitering around on the steps, looking cold and miserable. He saw Dumbledore, disguised as a muggle in a trenchcoat very similar to the one Severus was wearing. He also recognized many students, but not as much as he would have thought. Many of them were crying. 

Staying as far away from the Headmaster as possible, Severus snuck stealthily into the church and flung his coat onto the floor. Underneath he was dressed completely in white: quite a change from his usual attire, but this wasn't a usual day. 

The voice of a young girl screamed from outside: they were already here for him. The church was empty, and he used his wand to slam the doors closed. More people were screaming now. Someone was banging on the doors, and he could swear he heard the insane laughter of Lucius Malfoy. 

He looked around, taking in the inside of the church. Beyond the many empty pews were the caskets, four of them, all opened. Slowly he approached them. 

He would have preferred to meet her family under completely different circumstances, but it couldn't be helped now. Viola looked a lot like her mother. 

He was overcome with a strange calmness. His breathing was regular and deep, as if he was sleeping. The knots that had tied his stomach before were now loose; he felt absolutely nothing at all. Not even his arm hurt anymore.

The banging on the door became more insistent, and he suspected that it wasn't Lucius trying to get in, because he would have used magic. The screams were building. He ignored it. His hand went into his pocket and clasped the vial. 

He looked at it, and then at Viola, laying dead in her casket, rouged and dressed up only to sleep forever. He wondered with a surge of impotent rage what they had done to her before they killed her. His teeth clenched and he wept silently, loving her with every fibre of his being until it hurt too much to be alive. 

Finally the doors swung open and three Death Eaters stood there, one of them most definitely his old best friend. They thought they had him, he could tell. 

So many years ago he had brewed the same potion that he now had in his hand, intending to kill someone with it and failing. He emptied the vial in one quick shot. 

Lucius tore off his mask, a feral grin, almost like a snarl, was on his face. Snape's throat turned cold as the potion went down, and that cold spread throughout the rest of him quicker than he thought it would have. He slumped into a sitting position, leaning back on the casket of his lover. He had the presence of mind to smile triumphantly at Lucius, because he knew that he would be dead before his old friend got a chance to have any fun with him. 

While the Death Eaters made their move on Hogwarts, and Dumbledore fought them outside a church to defend the children that were with him; while Lucius was cursing and rushing back outside to join the Dark Lord, Severus Anthony Gordon Snape passed away peacefully with a smile on his face, and the last thing he ever thought about was the one time in his life that he was ever truly happy. 

***************************

And that's all folks. Lets have some reviews. 


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